


Making A Mess Of It

by nouseforaname



Series: Recovery Mode [6]
Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 40,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23940622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nouseforaname/pseuds/nouseforaname
Summary: Darlene is plagued with anxiety when Dom invites her and Elliot to her parents' place for Thanksgiving, but meeting her family is the least of her worries.
Relationships: Darlene Alderson/Dominique DiPierro
Series: Recovery Mode [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625374
Comments: 18
Kudos: 103





	1. I can read your mind

“You need to chill.” Elliot’s sitting on the couch, his head rolled back and his heavy-lidded eyes sleepily staring at the ceiling. “You’re working yourself up for nothing. Come sit down and smoke up with me.”

“It’s not just _nothing.”_ Darlene ignores his advice in favour of anxiously walking around her apartment in circles. “And it’s not like _you’ve_ done anything like this before.”

He lifts his head off the couch’s backrest, slouching forward so he can reach for the pipe and lighter sitting on her coffee table. “Oh, I’m scared shitless.” He packs in a fresh bowl and tips the end of the lighter towards it, flicking it a few times before it comes to life. He inhales slowly, holding in his breath for a few seconds; the smoke lazily crawls out of his mouth, gradually unfurling as it rises and melts into the air. “I’m just trying to not let it get to my head, which is what you’re doing.”

“Fuck off.” She eyes the pipe in his hand, shaking her head before making another lap around the kitchen. She’d love to get baked with her brother right now, but there are more important things at hand.

“C’mon, Darlene.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “It’s just Thanksgiving.”

She immediately stops pacing so she can glare at him. _“Just_ Thanksgiving? Need I remind you how _our_ Thanksgivings went?”

“You don’t need to remind me.” Elliot sets the pipe and lighter down. “Look, man, I get it - it’s gonna be weird as hell, but don’t you think it’s about time we had a little bit of normality? It’s the least we can do for ourselves after all the shit we’ve been through.”

He has a point there, but she’s never going to let him know that. “How the hell are we supposed to survive the next two fucking days pretending we come from a normal family with normal parents who raised us normally?”

“We have a plan for that, remember?” He reminds her. “We’ve been rehearsing all week. We’re gonna be fine.”

Darlene laughs humourlessly. “Don’t you find it at least a _little_ bit sad that we have to make up a backstory for ourselves so people don’t get suspicious? It’s not like people _don’t_ know who we are by now. You can thank every fucking news channel in the world for that.”

“We’re not going to twist anything. We’re just…building off what people already know about us - and it’s not like we haven’t done it before.” He shrugs. Again, he has a point, but…

“This is different.” She sighs, finally making her way over to the couch and defeatedly plopping down next to him. “I hate lying to Dom. You know that.”

“Didn’t you say she was in on the plan?” Elliot shrugs again. “And you’re not lying to her - you’re just lying to her mom.”

She rolls her eyes. “Because that makes it _so_ much better.” She rests her elbows on her knees and buries her face in her hands. “This is way fucked up.”

He tries to suppress a chuckle, but is unsuccessful. “Why, because your girlfriend wants to introduce you to her family?”

“Dude, I’m being serious.” She groans. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I never thought I’d get to this point.” She isn’t lying there. All of her previous partners either had families that were just as fucked up as hers or didn’t have one at all, so there was never a _it’s time for you to meet my parents_ phase. She has no idea what she’s walking into.

Elliot, the only other person in this universe with a love life as sordid as hers, lifts his upper body off the couch and leans forward in a similar position to his sister. “Well, it’s just more proof that Dom is different from the rest, right?”

“Exactly, which is why I really don’t want to fuck this up.” She rakes a hand through her tangled hair. “I dunno, to be honest…I’m not exactly scared of lying to her family. That, I can sort of deal with. It’s…” She vaguely gestures with her hands. “Do you ever feel like…the more someone gets to know you, the worse they end up feeling about you? Like…” She sucks in a breath. “The more you show yourself to them, the more reasons you’ve giving them to hate you.”

It’s been running circles around her head ever since her birthday, and it got worse when Dom relayed her family’s Thanksgiving invitation to her and Elliot last week. It’s gotten to the point where she’s been involuntarily spacing out; just the other day, she ‘came to’ in the middle of a packed subway car during rush hour with no recollection of how she got there or where she was heading. She should probably bring this up to Ben, but it’s hard to explain why she feels that way without implicating herself. Elliot would have an easier time understanding, which is why she wanted to see him tonight.

“I get it. It’s part of the reason why I hate opening up to people.” He says after a beat of silence. “But why would her family hate you?”

“I’m not talking about them.” Darlene swallows hard, but it does little to alleviate the pressure building up in her chest. “Dom doesn’t know… _everything_ about me.”

“You mean like the stuff we went through as kids?”

“Not just that.” She shakes her head, biting her bottom lip for a moment. “I’m talking about _all_ the fucked up things I’ve done recently - like, in the past year.” She turns away from him. “You know what I’m talking about.”

It takes him a few seconds to figure out exactly what she’s referencing. “Oh.” He leans back, facing the ceiling once again. “Okay, yeah. That’s pretty fucked up.”

“Tell me about it.” She presses her face into her palms again. “I want her to know, Elliot. I want to tell her everything - and you know that I just don’t feel that way about anyone. It’s just that…I already know what’s going to happen when she finds out, and I don’t want it.” She lets out a shaky, watery sigh. “But at the same time, I can’t blame her if she ends up reacting the way I know she will.”

“You don’t know for sure.” She can tell he’s trying to be optimistic for her sake, and she appreciates it, but there’s no way he’s right. “She might take it a lot better than you think. I mean, she’s done a lot of fucked up things too. She doesn’t really have much of a counter argument.”

“You’re kidding, right? You know how she is - she’s gonna use her job as an excuse for all the shit she pulled, because apparently killing people in the name of the law makes it okay, and after she’s finished kissing the FBI’s ass she’ll tear me a new one for doing exactly what she did. I know how it’s gonna go down. Remember when I told you?” Darlene shakes her head. “It took me months to finally break the news because I knew you’d flip the fuck out - and that’s exactly what you did. Who wouldn’t, honestly? You’d have to be a goddamn psychopath to be okay with it.”

“I mean, you could’ve done it at a better time.” He shrugs. “It was almost Christmas and we just finished cremating Mom.”

“As if any of that actually fucking mattered.” She rolls her eyes. “I could’ve told you on any other stupid day and you would’ve reacted the same.”

“But I’m still here, aren’t I?”

She curls up on the couch, hugging her knees to her chest. “That’s because you’re my dumbass brother. You always stay, even when you shouldn’t. What reason does Dom have?”

“You could say the same for her.” Elliot’s smile is small, almost rueful. “She stays, even when you think she shouldn’t. She obviously sees something in you, just like I do.”

They’ve had this pep talk a billion times, and she doesn’t want another rehashed version of it. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and glances at the time. “Shit. I have to go.”

It’s obvious Elliot knows she’s doing this just to get out of the conversation, but he lets it slide. “You got everything ready for tomorrow?”

“In terms of all the shit I packed, yes.” She rises to her feet, nodding towards the small black duffel bag and the usual purple backpack sitting by the front door. “But if you’re talking about my current mental and emotional state, no.”

He laughs and follows her to the entrance. “It’s going to be fine, Darlene. Try and focus on Thanksgiving for now. You can worry about the other stuff later.”

“Easy for you to say.” She grumbles as she slips her arms through the loops of her backpack and bends over to pick up the duffel bag. “It’s _all_ I’m going to be worrying about until I actually suck it up and tell her. Nothing like a big fat slice of anxiety to go with the turkey.”

“So you are going to tell her.” He opens the door and lets her walk through first.

“Duh.” She rolls her eyes as she brandishes her keys. “I told you - I want to tell her everything.” When her lock clicks, she spins around to face him. “I just…need some time to accept that this is probably going to change things between us.”

“Keep an open mind about it, okay? Don’t count yourself out just yet.” He half-turns to unlock his own door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She leans in to hug him, and he waves goodbye before disappearing behind his front door. Darlene checks her phone again and sighs; if she dawdles any more she’s going to be _really_ late, but at the same time maybe milking this out might not be a bad thing. Once she sees Dom, it’s only a matter of time until Thanksgiving weekend starts, and who knows what’ll happen with them when they’re back in the city afterward? Maybe Elliot’s right - she should focus on the weekend, on the time they have left together, so that when she finally tells Dom the truth and she decides she can’t put up with her bullshit anymore, she’ll at least have a handful of happy memories to wean herself off with.

She sighs again before squaring her shoulders and finally making her way downstairs.

* * *

“Don’t tell me you’re still looking.” Dom finally locks up her safe for the night and crawls into bed next to her, slinking an arm around her waist and resting her hand on the curve of her hip. “Just pick something already.”

“Demanding, much?” Darlene rolls her eyes as she hits play on the redhead’s MacBook, but she nestles against her side anyway. She hates her, she really does, but she’s grown so accustomed to having Dom next to her on cozy nights like these that it just doesn’t feel right not having her there. Plus, it’s well into November now, so it’s a little chilly, and Dom is always stupidly warm for some reason.

Also, she doesn’t know how many more times she’ll be able to be this close to her, so she might as well take full advantage of it.

Dom presses her cheek against the side of Darlene’s head, exhaling slowly as a particularly gory scene bounces off the lenses of her gigantic glasses. Darlene notes the way their bodies seamlessly move against each other; there isn’t an awkward shifting or a trial and error stage where they figure out what’s comfortable. They automatically know how they fit together, almost like it’s second nature. It’s most likely because they’ve been doing this for almost nine months now and it’s just a result of muscle memory, but a tiny - very strong emphasis on the _tiny -_ part of her likes to think that there’s something more to it, that there’s some kind of deeper meaning.

Oh, God. What has she become?

Dom is _ruining_ her.

Or maybe the threat of the impending end to their relationship is bringing out her sentimental side. That’s just as likely, if not more.

With that in mind, Darlene becomes hypersensitive to all of Dom’s movements. She notices that she’ll do something every now and then to remind her that she’s there - a quick kiss to the forehead, fingers drumming against her thigh, a small squeeze of the waist - and while she doesn’t mind it (In fact, she enjoys it, though you won’t catch her dead admitting that out loud), she wonders why she’s doing it in the first place. Maybe it’s Dom’s way of reminding herself that this is real, and that she won’t suddenly wake up alone in a dirty apartment with no one but Alexa to talk to.

Sometimes Darlene thinks this is a dream too. She’s lived a shitty enough life to know when things appear too good to be true, and on really bad days she finds herself counting down the minutes until she wakes up to Janice’s cold eyes staring down at her shackled ankles and wrists - but it never happens. Ben keeps assuring her that doubt and denial are completely normal and that it’s part of the healing process, but she’s tired of feeling this way. She just wants to accept that her life is loads better than it was a year ago and move on already, but also…what if it doesn’t stay this way for long? What if this is it, and it’s back downhill once this weekend is over?

“You okay?” Dom’s soft voice pulls her back. She somehow always knows when she’s mulling over something. Normally this would freak her out, but with Dom, it’s almost expected at this point. They can read each other so easily, even back when they first met. It’s just this weird connection that they share, and Darlene doesn’t really know how to explain it. It’s one of the many reasons why she doesn’t want this to end. Will there ever be another person out there who possesses the ability to understand her the way Dom does? What if there are other people out there, but Dom’s the only one with enough patience to try?

“Yeah.” Darlene shifts, pressing half of her face into the curve of Dom’s neck. Her eyes flutter half-closed as she breathes her in; fatigue is starting to weigh heavily on her, but she forces herself to stay awake. If she falls asleep now, that means morning will come soon, which also means she’ll have less time with her.

Dom probably senses her exhaustion, because she pushes the laptop away so she can wrap her other arm around her and pull her even closer. “What are you thinking about?”

Another thing Darlene will never admit to anyone: She actually kind of loves it when Dom asks her this question. There’s something so attractive about her eagerness to get to know her better; it’s easy to tell Dom’s doing this because she genuinely gives a shit, and not because she’s fishing for information she could eventually hold against her someday. Then again, if this weekend goes according to plan and Darlene divulges the truth, that may change.

Still, it’s nice nonetheless. Maybe it’s just the agent in her and she always has to know the full picture before fully committing to something, but if anything that just makes her even more attractive. Dom has to explore every single detail before making up her mind because she needs to know what to expect. Even after Darlene disclosed some of the ugliest parts of herself, Dom still felt that she was worth trying for. It makes her feel like maybe, just maybe, she isn’t a lost cause after all. Dom doesn’t put effort into things that _might_ be worth it; she only sticks around if she knows for sure it’s worth investing in - so that must mean she thinks Darlene is worth all the trouble, right?

The thing is, she _doesn’t_ know every single detail. Not yet, anyway.

“Are you worried about tomorrow?” Dom begins to comb her fingers through her hair. “There’s still time to back out.”

Darlene almost wants to tell her right then and there, but she vehemently shakes her head instead. “I said I was in. I want to be there.”

Dom raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Do you? No offence, but I didn’t think Thanksgiving was your thing.”

“It isn’t,” Darlene shrugs. “But I know this is important to you, and it’s probably good for me anyway.”

“You don’t have to do this for me.” Dom insists. “I don’t want you to do anything that’ll make you uncomfortable.”

“I was gonna have to do this eventually.” Darlene shrugs again. “Might as well rip off the bandaid now.”

Dom sighs. “Only if you’re absolutely sure.”

It’s the least she can do for her. They can have a nice, normal Thanksgiving weekend and pretend they’re a normal couple - and then, when it’s all over, she’ll dump her worst secret on her, and she’ll be alone again, the way it’s supposed to be. At least then, she’ll no longer hurt the people she cares about.

“I am, so stop bugging me about it. Jesus.” Darlene tightens her hold on Dom, almost like she’s afraid she’ll slip away at any given moment.

“Okay.” Dom’s tone is hesitant, but she doesn’t press any further. “Maybe we should turn in for the night. You look exhausted.”

Panic starts to make its way in and she shakes her head again, straightening her back so she’s more in a seated position rather than lying down. “No, I’m good. Let’s keep watching.”

Dom chuckles. “But we never finish a movie. We always fall asleep halfway through and then we start a new one next week. That’s our thing, isn’t it?”

“Oh, it totally is, but...” Darlene angles her head so that she’s able to graze the end of her nose against Dom’s jawline. When the redhead turns to look at her, she lifts herself up a little so she can briefly kiss her on the lips. “This just feels really nice. Can you blame me for wanting to stay like this a little longer?”

She can see a faint tinge of pink on Dom’s cheeks, and she can’t help but grin at the redhead's bashfulness. “I guess not.”

They fall asleep half an hour later.

* * *

She wakes up insanely early the next morning because she wants to stretch out the weekend for as long as humanely possible.

Darlene rubs her eyes with the heel of her palm, yawning as she lazily rolls on her side. Dom’s still fast asleep; she has the covers pulled up so high that her eyebrows are the only visible parts of her face. The early morning sun seeps in between the curtains, shining down on her hair; it’s such a bright, vivacious shade of red that it kind of hurts to look at.

When she sticks out a hand to tug the comforter down just a bit, she’s pleasantly surprised when Dom reaches out to her, placing her hands on her hips and pulling until Darlene is on top of her. There’s a bout of soft, sleepy chuckling as Darlene leans in just enough to brush her lips against the redhead’s. “Damn it - I really thought I was gonna wake up first this time.”

“In what universe is that ever going to happen?” The ends of their noses bump together. “Did you sleep okay?”

She scoffs. “What, you think I didn’t sleep well because I woke up early for once?”

Dom shrugs. “You’re usually comatose until noon. What else was I supposed to think?”

She can’t really blame her for feeling that way - because she’s not exactly wrong. Part of the reason why she’s up so early is because her mounting anxiety wouldn’t let her sleep longer, but of course she isn’t going to let her know that, so she laughs it off instead. “You’re such a dick.” Then she closes her eyes and leans in even further so she can finally kiss her.

It’s weird how much she enjoys quiet mornings like these now, how she relishes the little moments they share with each other before the chaos of reality barges in and they have no choice but to get up and face the rest of the day. Mushy morning rapport was never her thing in the past; she used to think this shit only existed in terrible movies because she wasn’t at all convinced that love existed. The worst part about being codependent on someone was waking up the morning after and being forced to spend time with them, pretending she felt something more for them than just a physical need to have them around so she doesn’t have to confront her own issues. Even with Cisco, she would either sneak out before he had the chance to notice she was gone, or she’d pretend to be asleep until he woke up and left to start the day. She only wanted company when her loneliness was dangerously close to consuming her, and then she’d get sick of them and push them away until the loneliness came back. She thought all relationships were like this, and that people just pretended to be in love because it’s what they’re expected to feel for each other. Saying you’re in love with someone is just an excuse to keep them around.

But she knows better now, obviously. Either that or Dom is _really_ good at pretending.

“You’re worried, aren’t you?” Dom, ever the mind reader, reaches up and brushes her thumb across Darlene’s cheek. “Don’t be. You’re going to be fine.”

“I told you I’m good.” She mutters. “It’s just…not what I’m used to, that’s all. Just give me some time. I’ll suck it up eventually.”

Dom frowns. “I don’t want you to suck it up. That means you’re just putting up with it. I told you I didn’t want to make you feel pressured into doing something you’re not comfortable with.”

“It’s nothing like that.” She sighs. “I told you - Elliot and I didn’t have the best parents growing up. Holidays at our house sucked.” A part of her is yearning to tell her more about the nightmare that was her childhood, but there hasn’t been a good opportunity for that yet. Plus, there are more important truths she should be confessing first.

“I know.” Dom brushes some of Darlene’s hair away from her face, tucking a few strands behind her ear. “Just…you’ll tell me if it gets overwhelming, right? Because it gets overwhelming for me, and I’ve had to do this my whole life.”

She laughs. “Were you hoping to use me as an excuse to leave early?”

Dom innocently shrugs her shoulders, unable to conceal the grin forcing its way onto her face. “Maybe.”

Darlene rolls her eyes and laughs again. She’s just about to make another snarky remark when Dom’s hand slides to the back of her head, gently pushing her in for a second kiss. She melts into the redhead’s embrace, moving her hands up to frame Dom’s face as she unashamedly grinds her hips against hers, and when Dom reacts with a soft moan the corners of her mouth curve into a triumphant simper. The hand at the back of Darlene’s head tightens into a fist, desperately pulling at her brown locks, and she suddenly pulls back, grabbing Dom by the wrists and rolling off the mattress so that they’re standing up. Once they’re both steady on their feet Dom lunges forward and smashes their lips together, her hands sliding down to Darlene’s thighs. Darlene eagerly hops up, her legs securely hugging Dom’s sides as the redhead catches her; she cups Dom’s cheeks with her hands and laughs into another kiss as Dom stumbles across her small apartment towards the bathroom. She kicks the door shut behind her, their muffled laughter quickly drowned out by the sound of water spewing from a shower head.

Sex was another thing Darlene never really put much thought into. At first it was just something to do -it feels good, it’s fun in the moment, it means she isn’t alone for a little while. It didn’t have much meaning to her; it’s just a carnal instinct carved into peoples’ DNA. It’s something most people do because they were bred to do it. She had partners who were great at it - surprisingly, Cisco being one of them - but Darlene never really thought of it as a form of intimacy, or a way to show someone how much she cared. Sometimes she and Cisco would end up doing it just so they would stop arguing. Sometimes it was out of sheer boredom. It’s a bridge or a stepping stone that leads her to something else - a way out of this argument, a way out of boredom, a way out of loneliness. There’s nothing romantic about it, especially when she started using it as leverage later on in life. It’s amazing how malleable people become when they’re lonely, or when they’re desperate to have their physical needs met. When she found out she could use sex as a means to get what she wanted, it opened the floodgates for her, but mostly in bad ways. On top of still being alone and hollow on the inside, she now has the guilt of knowing she used someone. She quickly found that the only way she could stop feeling guilty is if she found someone else to take advantage of, so the cycle would start itself again. And again. And again.

She insisted on taking the lead when it came to physical relations with all of her previous partners, mostly because it gave her the illusion of being in control of _something,_ anything at all. The rest of her life may be in shambles, but at least with sex she can say she knows what she’s doing. It’s one of the few things she’s actually pretty confident about, so on top of feeling like she has a handle on it, she gets a temporary ego (And serotonin) boost. She also never felt comfortable enough in any of her previous relationships to just let them do whatever they wanted, because there’s always the risk of something going wrong. They might just do something to kill the mood, or they might even have worse intentions than her. Who knows what kind of crazy shit people are capable of coming up with? At least when she’s in the driver’s seat, she knows exactly what to expect, and that makes her feel safe. No one can hurt her when she’s in control.

But like all things with Dom, it’s different. Sex isn’t used to keep her close, or as a way to stave off being on her own, or to make her feel like she’s in control of her life when she actually isn’t - in fact, she wouldn’t even say she _uses_ it with her, because that implies that she’s doing it for something in return, like a transaction; a simple exchange between two people, like a business proposition. Nothing personal whatsoever. Maybe it’s been like that with her past relationships, but it’s not like that with Dom, not at all. At least not anymore.

Dom never gave her a reason not to trust her. Darlene knows she would never do anything that would jeopardize that, so she’s completely fine with letting her call the shots in bed every now and then. She actually encourages it, maybe even looks forward to it (She totally does, but she’s never going to admit that). Relinquishing control over to Dom and trusting her with this incredibly high level of vulnerability opened up an entirely new way of looking at sex and how truly enjoyable it can be with someone who really understands her. She doesn’t always know what to expect, but that’s okay, because she knows the outcome will never be bad. Dom would never purposely hurt her; she actually does the exact opposite. Dom doesn’t just make sex enjoyable; she makes her feel good - like, _really_ good. She always seems to know exactly what to do, when to do it, and where to do it. There’s never been a time when she was off the mark - not even on the first night it happened, when everything went to shit and changed forever. Even back then, when they hardly knew each other, Dom read her perfectly. She manoeuvred around her like she did this millions of times, like she was already familiar with her body and the way she works. Darlene isn’t gonna lie - it’s pretty fucking hot.

There’s a slow, calculated way to Dom’s methods, like she carefully plans each move before executing them, and it gets Darlene worked up in ways she never thought was possible. Dom was and still is so attractively attentive to her, not just emotionally but physically as well; the way she teases her, the way she builds up the aching, heart racing anticipation, the way she can actually get her to _beg_ \- she never felt compelled to beg with any of her previous partners, so imagine her surprise when _“Fuck, Dom - don’t stop, please”_ slipped off the tip of her tongue for the first time - to keep going, to go faster, and when she pushes her off that edge and her back arches and all she can see is stars, her first instinct isn’t to throw her clothes back on and get the hell out. In fact, she looks forward to the aftermath where they collapse in each others’ arms, hair plastered to their faces, both of them out of breath, gasping with satisfied laughter. There’s nothing about the entire process that she dreads; she wants all of it, and she relishes each moment.

There’s still something very raw, very aggressive about it, but there’s also a tenderness that she’s never experienced with anyone else before. It’s a unique kind of connection, a level of deep intimacy that she never felt with anyone else. It never feels futile or pointless; it never happens because she wants something from her. It’s not out of boredom (Well, okay, _sometimes_ it’s out of boredom, but can you blame her?), not out of spite; there’s a reason for every kiss, every caress, every strangled gasp. At the risk of sounding too poetic, she feels closer to Dom every time it happens. She sees it as a testament to that unique connection, and that it’s mutual in every possible way. She hates the term _making love_ ; it’s such a Hollywood way of looking at it, but it’s more accurate than _having sex_ or _fucking._

To put it simply: Dom is just different, period, which is why things are going to suck when Darlene divulges the truth about Susan and she leaves for good.

After drying off and changing into some fresh clothes, they settle down for breakfast and go over the backstory Darlene and Elliot threw together. “Okay, so,” Dom’s speaking through a mouthful of blueberry Eggos. “How did we meet again?”

“There was a work thing, and Elliot forced me to go with him because I was dumped recently and he was tired of me moping around.” Darlene reaches for the orange juice. “He introduced us and we hit it off immediately. Bam, there’s our origin story.”

“Do you really think my mom’s going to believe that?” Dom quirks an eyebrow as Darlene raises the open carton to her mouth. “It’s so…cliche. Plus, she knows I was working on the Five/Nine case.”

“That’s exactly why she’s going to fall for it - and what’s your point? Elliot already convinced the world I wasn’t part of Five/Nine or fsociety. Meeting at a work function is believable, trust me.” Darlene takes a sip of juice, smacking her lips and setting the carton back down on the table, ignoring the exasperated look on Dom’s face. “Would you rather tell her that, or that we met on the night the Dark Army killed my boyfriend?” She rips off a piece of the last Eggo on Dom’s plate and pops it into her mouth. “I’m sure she’ll get a kick out of the time I fucked you so I could fail at stealing from the FBI.”

Dom snorts into her coffee. “I dunno, she might like that I’m dating a criminal. It would be a nice change of pace, and I think she has a thing for bad boys.“

“Wait, what?”

“She’s in love with your brother.”

Darlene makes a face. “Okay, ew - and he’s not a bad boy. He’s literally the world’s biggest nerd. He got busted for _nerd_ crimes.”

“If he’s a nerd convict, what does that make you? A nerd fugitive?” Dom smirks when Darlene fails to come up with an answer. “She religiously followed CNN for the entire trial. She thinks he’s a hero.”

“Good.” Darlene smirks. “That puts some pressure off me. I totally don’t mind if he’s the centre of attention.”

“You’re not getting off that easy.” Dom laughs. “She thinks you’re a saint for standing by your brother throughout the whole trial. She was over the moon when I told her Elliot was working with me now, but you don’t even want to know how she reacted when I told her _we_ were together. She didn’t want me saying anything about you because she wanted to get to know you herself.”

That gets her to panic a little on the inside, but she plays it cool. “There isn’t much to tell.” Darlene leans back in her seat, trying to look more confident than she actually feels. “The news already told the world I’m from Jersey and that E Corp killed my dad.”

“Right, but there’s obviously more. She’s gonna want to know what you’ve been up to since the trial, what your hobbies are, all that stuff.”

“Fine.” Darlene shoots her a grin. “I can make up some bullshit story about how I’m a corporate slave for Steel Mountain or something. I can be a pen tester.”

The redhead quirks an eyebrow. “Did you just choose that because of the name, or because it’s the legal version of what you actually do?”

“Both, duh.”

“So, you’re a nerd.” Dom deadpans, and Darlene groans.

“Whatever. It’s better than telling her that Elliot lied about me not being involved and that I actually am the co-founder of the cyberterrorist group that was partially responsible for the collapse of the American economy,” She snatches the rest of Dom’s last Eggo. “And that I’m the reason why she had to be faux-kidnapped by an Irish mobster so the Dark Army wouldn’t blow her brains out - oh, and that I’m _also_ the reason why her daughter got a punctured lung for Christmas and almost died.”

“Fair.” Dom downs the rest of her coffee in one gulp. “Okay, last chance. Are you sure you want to do this?”

Darlene rolls her eyes again. “How many times do I have to tell you?” A part of her is begging to reconsider, to say no and to claw at any other excuse to pretend she isn’t hiding anything from her, but she swallows it and plows on. “I’m starting to think that _you’re_ the one who doesn’t want to go.”

Dom gathers their dirty dishes and makes her way over to the sink to wash them. “I mean, if I had a choice, I’d rather spend the whole weekend with you.”

The collar of her sweater feels like it’s closing in on her neck. She stubbornly crosses her arms and looks in the opposite direction, hoping that the warmth on her face doesn’t look as obvious as it feels. “We spend every weekend together. What difference would it make?”

“None.” Dom shrugs. “That’s why I enjoy them. They’re never complicated or unbearable. I love my family and I’d do anything for them, but I can only take them in small doses.” She steps out the kitchen, wiping her hands with a dishcloth before tossing it over the backrest of a chair. “But you? I’d take a million boring weekends with you over Thanksgiving with my crazy family any day. Honestly, that’s why I wanted to leave on Friday instead of waiting until Saturday. I just wanted a few extra days with you.”

Darlene almost has a full on breakdown right then and there. Dom shouldn’t be saying those things about her, she shouldn’t even be _thinking_ those kinds of things about her, not when she doesn’t know the full extent of the fucked up things she’s done. How the hell can she even confess to her now? How can she look her in the eye and tell her that she straight up _murdered_ someone and felt absolutely nothing afterward, or that maybe a part of her actually kind of _enjoyed_ it?

She shakes her head and forces herself to stare at the blank wall next to her as if that’ll somehow get rid of the annoying stinging in her eyes. When Dom steps behind her and bends down to kiss the top of her head, she bites down on the inside of her cheek. She _can’t_ cry right now. She can’t give herself away, not when the weekend barely started.

But of course, she can’t hide anything from her. She’s stupid for thinking she could. “Hey.” She feels Dom’s hands on her shoulders and her mouth moving against her hair.

Darlene rolls her head back so she can stare up at her. “What?”

“I know you’re sick of hearing this,” Dom pauses to briefly kiss her on the lips. “But it’s going to be okay. Honestly, my mom isn’t very hard to please. She’s just happy I’m in a relationship at all.”

The stinging in her eyes intensifies by the tenfold. “Yeah?

“Yup.” Dom tugs Darlene to her feet, pulling her into her arms and chuckling ruefully. “Did I ever tell you how she tried setting me up with Janice?”

Darlene pulls back to gape at her, laughing out of disbelief. “Oh, _do_ tell.”

“She joined my mom’s church group, probably so she can dig up info on my family and use it against me later. I guess my mom thought we’d be a good match for some reason, so she invited her over for dinner. Then everything went downhill from there.”

Darlene laughs again as she throws her arms around Dom’s neck. “Y’know what? I kinda ship it.”

Dom rolls her eyes and leans in, mumbling against her mouth. “Don’t be gross.”

They do a last minute sweep of the apartment to make sure everything’s in order and that they’re not forgetting anything (“No, Dom, you don’t need to bring your gun, Jesus. Who’s gonna fucking take it?”). Elliot finally calls them twenty minutes afterward to let them know that the cab just picked him up and that they’re on their way over.

The sight of the cab parked by the curb forces Darlene’s anxiety to spike. She can hear her pulse thudding in her ears as she tosses her bags into the trunk, and when she ducks into the backseat she feels like she might have a panic attack. She can’t do this. She’s setting herself up for failure. She’s bringing her hopes up for nothing. A couple days of forced normalcy isn’t going to make it hurt any less. She’s going to lose her no matter what. Dom will never accept the truth.

The leather seat croaks as Dom moves in to sit on the opposite side. “You okay?”

Darlene briefly turns towards her, nodding briskly. “Yeah.” When she feels the blood beginning to drain from her face, she quickly turns again to stare out the window so Dom won’t see, but she knows she’s just kidding herself. Of course Dom can see. She doesn’t miss anything.

“I got you something.” Elliot, who’s sitting up front, half-twists his upper body so that he’s facing them. He tosses something in her direction; it’s rectangular and brightly coloured.

Her anxiety is so bad that she doesn’t even register he’s throwing something at her; it hits her knee before it topples to the floor. It’s not until Dom picks it up and places it on her lap that she finally acknowledges it. “Oh.” She picks up the bag of Sour Patch Kids, smiling wearily. “Thanks.”

There’s concern etched on both Elliot and Dom’s faces, but they’re for completely different reasons. It’s making her uncomfortable and it isn’t doing anything to quell the anxiety bubbling inside of her, but she continues to play it cool by laughing at them and ripping the bag of candy open. “What? You want any?” She holds the bag out; Elliot hesitantly takes a few, but when Dom shakes her head she shrugs before tossing a gummy into her mouth. “Suit yourself.”

The cab driver twists his key into the ignition and the engine roars to life. Darlene swallows hard as the car pulls away from the curb and veers back into traffic; the hand that isn’t clutching the bag of Sour Patch Kids grips onto the edge of her seat so tightly that the tendons are visibly quivering beneath her skin. The threat of an incoming panic attack continues to loom over her, pushing her dangerously close to the edge, but then she feels the warmth of Dom’s hand slipping into hers.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Dom squeezes reassuringly. She’s glowing, literally and figuratively; her smile is warm, comforting, and the cold sunlight streaking through the windows is bouncing off her hair. Darlene is suddenly reminded of the way she looked just a few hours ago, peacefully lying next to her in bed with the covers drawn, and a golf ball-sized lump magically materializes in her throat.

How many of those mornings does she have left?

“I know.” She squeezes back, smiling as best she can, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.


	2. I could bide my time

“Hey.” Dom whispers into her ear, and her eyes slowly open. “We’re here.”

The car isn’t moving, and she doesn’t hear the rumble of the engine running. Darlene straightens up, rubbing her eyes with her fists, and when they finally adjust to the light she takes a quick look out the window. The house looming over them is huge, bigger than any house she’s ever seen before. The driveway looks big enough to fit four cars, and the lawn is immaculately kept even though it’s November and there really isn’t a reason for it to look that nice anymore. The late afternoon sun is quickly sinking into the horizon, smearing the sky in an array of pinks, purples, yellows, oranges, and reds; it’s something out of a Hallmark Channel movie.

There’s a dull thud; Elliot and the cab driver just took their luggage out of the trunk. Dom takes her hand and pushes the door open. “C’mon.” She gently helps her out of the cab and onto her feet, pulling her towards the back of the car.

Elliot hands over her stuff and watches her tug on the straps of her backpack. “You good?”

“Can you both stop treating me like I’m five years old?” Darlene narrows her eyes. “I don’t need to be babysat, thanks.”

She almost wants to start yelling again when her brother and girlfriend exchange uneasy glances, but she isn’t in the mood to start an argument so she keeps her mouth shut. After paying the driver, Dom extends the handle on her roller bag and starts to drag it up the driveway. “Okay, so you won’t see them ’til tomorrow but I might as well give you the heads up now: My brothers can be huge douchebags, but they’re not so bad once they warm up to you.”

“So, like any other brother.” Darlene mutters, and when Elliot shoots her an incredulous look she listlessly shrugs her shoulders. “I said what I said.”

“My older brother Jerry’s a sucker for old movies, so I don’t think you’ll have too much trouble with him. My younger brother Joseph only cares about two things: Weed and The Eagles.”

“The band or the football team?” Elliot asks, and Dom briefly pauses to think it over.

“Good question - I guess both. Their wives are mirror images of each other: Blonde, into yoga, obsessed with Gwyneth Paltrow. Can’t stand either of them, but they’re harmless.” She resumes the walk up the driveway, which feels like it’s taking forever. “The kids are spoiled brats, but you can get on their good side if you know anything about wrestling or video games. My dad’s in Tacoma for work, but my mom will probably FaceTime him at some point tomorrow and she’ll force you to say hi; just talk about the Phillies and you’ll be fine. My nonna will force you to try every single dish she helped make; her pecan pie is the best, but that’s usually the first one to go so you better grab a slice the second she takes it out of the oven.”

Darlene can’t help but think about how disturbingly normal all of this sounds. Dom’s family members aren’t batshit insane or horribly abusive; they actually sound like well adjusted, regular people. Sure, the way Dom’s describing them is making them seem a _little_ overbearing, but aren’t most normal families like that anyway? You can’t live with them, you can’t live without them - that sort of thing.

“And your mom?” Elliot pipes up again as the approach the front steps.

“Oh, I saved the best for last.” Dom sighs. “First thing’s first: She’s a hugger, so don’t be surprised if that’s the first thing she does when she sees you. She’ll probably bombard you with questions about how I am at work. Then she’ll dive into a bunch of embarrassing stories about me. She’s…a lot. Just be prepared for that.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” Elliot smiles, and Darlene almost wants to roll her eyes at how calm he looks. It’s usually the other way around, with her being the eager one and him being the recluse. What kind of fucked up alternate universe are they living in? Did Whiterose’s machine work after all?

They finally reach the front door, and Darlene swears her heart stops beating. She immediately reaches for Dom’s hand, squeezing anxiously, and the redhead throws her a reassuring smile before squeezing back. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” The nervous quake in her voice is hard to miss. She takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders before giving Dom a nod, and the redhead reaches for the doorbell - but just as her finger is just about to press the button, the door swings open, and all three heads snap up to glance at the squat woman standing before them.

“You’re finally here!” Trudie DiPierro looks like she was taken straight out of a sitcom. She’s wearing a little too much makeup, her earlobes are drooping with the weight of her gigantic diamond earrings, and her hair is streaked with chunky blonde highlights - but the smile stretched across her mouth is warm, inviting, infectious. Loving.

“The traffic was terrible.” Dom croaks as her mother pulls her in for what Darlene thinks is the most suffocating hug she’s ever seen. Trudie drags Dom mid-hug inside the house, and the Aldersons meekly follow behind. There’s a loud bark; a large, fluffy golden retriever bounds up to them, tail wagging and tongue dangling from its open mouth as it curiously sniffs at the newest additions to the household. When Dom and Trudie finally pull apart, the redhead gestures towards her companions. “Um, this is-”

“Elliot Alderson!” She immediately loses interest in Dom, pushing her daughter to the side before lunging towards Elliot. Darlene’s pretty sure she heard him let out a small _oof_ as she crushes him in her embrace. “You have no idea how delighted I am to meet you, but my goodness - you are _so_ much skinnier in person. I guess it’s true when they say that the camera adds ten pounds!” She raises a hand to pinch his cheek, and Darlene has to turn away so that she isn’t caught laughing. “But don’t you worry - you’re going to put on some _real_ weight tomorrow.”

He rubs the spot where Trudie pinched him and manages a coy smile before kneeling down to pet the dog. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. DiPierro.” His voice is slightly strained, like his chest is still in the process of decompressing from the sheer force of Trudie’s arms.

“Oh, you’re sweet - but please, call me Trudie. _Mrs. DiPierro_ is what you would call an old person, and I’m definitely not that.” Her eyes crinkle at the corners as a full, rich laugh passes through her brightly painted lips. Dom looks like she’s going to die of embarrassment, which delights Darlene, but then Trudie finally turns to face her, and her heart leaps to her throat. “And you must be Darlene.” She clasps her hands beneath her chin, gazing at her like she’s a puppy in a viral video instead of what she really is, which is the human equivalent to a dumpster fire. “Oh, Dom - she’s gorgeous.”

“Ma…” Darlene hears Dom groan somewhere behind her, but if she said anything else after that she wouldn’t know, because Trudie suddenly pulls her in for a hug so tight that the only thing she can hear is her heartbeat hammering against her eardrums. Her ribcage feels like it’s splintering, and for a second she thinks her life is going to start flashing before her eyes, but Trudie finally lets go and she can breathe again.

“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you? Those news cameras did such an injustice; you are so much more beautiful in real life.” Darlene notices that Trudie’s hands are on her shoulders; she’s looking her up and down, and she starts to feel self-conscious. “Does being thin run in your family? You and your brother are like sticks!”

“Ma!” Dom cries again, but it goes largely unnoticed.

“But your eyes!” Trudie’s hands move up to pat her cheeks and Darlene immediately stiffens at the contact. What are you supposed to do when your girlfriend’s mom unexpectedly touches your face? “Honest to God, you have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. I’m looking at them right now and I’m pretty sure _I’m_ falling in love with you-”

Dom looks like she’s about to have a heart attack. “Can you not-”

“What? Am I wrong? C'mon, just admit that you can’t say no to ‘em. Prettiest pair of diamonds I've ever laid my eyes on. They give Elizabeth Taylor’s peepers a run for their money.” Trudie throws a broad grin in Darlene's direction. “I bet you used these suckers to lure my Dom in, didn’t you?”

Her brain is screaming at her to come up with a good answer, but all she can come up with is a pathetic, “You got me.”

Trudie seems to have loved it, though, because she’s laughing again. “I knew it!”

Dom runs a hand down her face, utterly mortified. Elliot isn’t sure if he should laugh or not. Darlene is just wishing Trudie would change the subject already, and her wish finally comes true when Trudie lets go of her and makes her way down the hall towards the foot of the stairs; the golden retriever looks on, briefly debating if it should follow her, but it ultimately chooses to stay with Elliot. “Anyways, I’m so glad you both are here. This one-” She nods over to her daughter, who’s rolling her eyes. “Insisted that it wasn’t necessary to invite you, but I’m glad none of us listened to her.” She gestures towards the upper floor. “Elliot, you can take one of the rooms upstairs, or you can take the room in the basement - whichever’s more comfortable for you. Dom, make sure our guests have everything we need.” She steps away from the stairs and begins to make her way further down the hall. “Get yourselves settled in, and then come back for dinner.” She casts another wide smile in Darlene and Elliot’s direction. “We’re gonna fatten you up this weekend!”

When she leaves them alone, Dom buries her face in her hands. “I am _so_ sorry. I told you - she’s a lot.”

Elliot chuckles as Trudie’s dog excitedly circles his ankles. “She’s great.”

Darlene wants to add a snide comment about how they haven’t even known her for ten minutes and she’s already a better mother to them than their own mother ever was their entire lives, but this probably isn’t the time or place for that. A part of her is still reeling from Trudie’s lengthy gushing over how pretty her eyes are. Her mom never complimented her; she can’t even think of a time when she gave her a backhanded compliment. There was nothing that came out of that woman’s mouth that wasn’t cruel or accusatory.

“Hey.” Dom calls out to her; she’s already halfway up the stairs. “You coming?”

She can feel Elliot’s eyes on her as she bends down to reach for her duffel bag, but she doesn’t spare him a look.

* * *

Elliot ultimately goes with the room in the basement since he technically gets an entire floor to himself there. The room Dom and Darlene take is at the far end of the hall on the second floor; it‘s a little on the small side but it has its own bathroom, so they have plenty of privacy. It’s not Dom’s childhood bedroom, but it’s clear that this is where she always stays when she’s here. Traces of her actual old room back in Teaneck can be found all over the place, like the stacks of CDs haphazardly piled on the desk in the corner. There’s a bit of everything: Patsy Cline, Hole, Bruce Springsteen, The Police, Garbage, John Denver, Radiohead, Janis Joplin, Veruca Salt.

“Damn, Dom.” Darlene hunches over, placing her hands on her knees so she can peer at some of the albums. She traces a finger down the spine of Jagged Little Pill. “Were you actually cool once upon a time?”

Dom snorts as she kicks her luggage against the wall next to the dresser. “I doubt it.”

Something shiny glints at Darlene from the corner of her eye; there’s a cluster of Dom’s high school soccer, lacrosse, rugby, and debate team trophies gathered at the far rear corner of the desk. Next to the cluster is an old framed photo, which Darlene immediately grabs so she can inspect it up close. It’s of teenage Dom in her rugby uniform: She has one knee on the grass, a ball tucked under her arm, and an uncharacteristically cocky grin stretched across her face. There’s a bit of dirt smudged on her shirt and cheeks, and her hair is windswept and still in its natural dark blonde. “Wow. Check out this hot jock.” She waves the photo in Dom’s direction. “You must’ve been up to your eyebrows in puss-”

“I definitely wasn’t.” Dom hastily cuts in as she opens the door to the closet, disappearing inside of it for a second. “This is what probably kept them away.”

Darlene whirls around to face her, and her expression brightens when she spots Dom standing by her closet door holding an old Girl Scout uniform. “No fucking way.” She sets the photo aside, bounds over to her, and eagerly grabs the outfit, running a hand over the collage of pins and badges mottled all over the vest. It looks far too big to fit a young girl, which means Dom must’ve been in her teens when she last wore this. “How long?”

“Ten years.” Dom somehow looks both embarrassed and proud to admit this. “Started when I was six and quit when I was sixteen.” She laughs when Darlene pulls the vest from the hanger so she can try it on. “I can’t believe it fits you.”

“How do I look?” Darlene twirls in a full circle, holding out her arms as if to present herself. “Do you still have your rugby shorts? Maybe we can do a little bit of role play - y’know, spice things up a bit.”

“Stop.” Dom laughs again, stepping closer so she can slip both arms around her and pull her in. Darlene crosses her wrists behind Dom’s head, smirking against her lips before fully kissing her, and for a second she allows herself to believe that this is the first of many Thanksgiving weekends in Philly, that this won’t be the first and last time she’ll ever see Trudie. She sinks into the happiness of the moment, but she only lets herself enjoy it for a few minutes. She can’t get any more attached than she already is. The more comfortable she gets, the worse it’s going to hurt.

“I’m really glad you’re here.” Dom speaks up again, leaning in to press their foreheads together. “Elliot too, of course, but especially you. It’s nice.”

“So you did want me to come.” Darlene scoffs.

“Of course I did, but only if you wanted to be here.”

“And I told you already that I want to be here.” Darlene rolls her eyes. “How many times do I have to say it?”

“I know, I know. Sorry.” Dom leans back a bit, furrowing her brow. “It’s just…weird, I guess.”

“Weird how?”

Dom shakes her head, laughing nervously. “It’s stupid.”

“No, c’mon.” Darlene curves a hand behind her neck and pulls her back in, nudging the end of her nose with her own. “Talk to me. I don’t care if it’s stupid.”

Dom clicks her tongue; her eyes dart upward for a second, almost like she’s trying to figure out how to transfer the words from her brain to her mouth. “One year ago, I hung out in this exact same room for weeks forcing myself to stay awake because I was so scared the Dark Army was going to sneak up out of nowhere and murder my family.” She steps back and gestures to the papasan chair sitting next to the desk. “I sat there all day long, gun in hand, listening to every sound that passed through the house. Every footstep, every door opening or closing, every voice, _everything_ I heard, I somehow convinced myself that it was them.”

Darlene’s chest begins to contract; it feels like there’s a fist enclosed around her heart, squeezing as tight as it possibly can. She tries to picture a sleep deprived Dom nodding off in that chair with that black pistol sitting on her lap, and it only provokes that fist to squeeze even tighter.

“I would look out and memorize every car or person that passed by the house.” Dom’s nodding over to the window, which has a perfect view of the street below. “I wrote it all down - what I saw, what time I saw it, and then I’d keep a tally of all the times I saw the same thing after that. For a week, there was a white unmarked van that would park by the corner every single day at the exact same time. I swore it was the Dark Army coming to get me.” Dom laughs again, shaking her head. “Turns out our neighbour’s basement just flooded and they had to hire a bunch of guys to clean it up.” She runs a hand through her hair. “Then there was this other time when I almost shot the guy who was renovating the master bathroom with my mom just standing a few feet away.”

“What?” Darlene gapes at her. Flashbacks of that day upstate flicker in and out of her memory and she swallows hard. Dom’s words, razor sharp and dripping with pure disdain, chip into the rungs of her ribcage. The pain in her stare, the blood flecked on her face and clothes - she can see and hear all of it, crystal clear, as if it happened just moments ago.

“Yeah, it was pretty bad.” Dom is chuckling again, like she’s recalling a fond memory. “But I also can’t believe it’s over. Back then, I thought it was never going to end, but it did. It’s over, and now I’m back in this same room, but under different circumstances, and for some reason I don’t trust it. It feels… _too_ normal, like there’s no way in hell I could be here now when I was in such a bad place earlier. How could I have gone from that, to this? And the weirdest thing is that I know exactly how I got here. I know what I had to go through to get to where I am right now, but my brain refuses to believe that any of it was real. It’s like it’s trying to convince itself that there’s no way any of that stuff led me anywhere, and that I’m just meant to be alone and paranoid forever.” She shakes her head. “None of this makes any sense. I sound like a crazy person.”

“You’re not crazy.” Darlene insists, reaching out to place one hand on her shoulder. “You’ve just been through so much bad shit that when something halfway decent comes along, you psych yourself into thinking it isn’t real because you’re just so used to things being shitty all the time. Trust me, I know what it feels like. I do it all the time.” She breaks eye contact and bites her bottom lip. “It’s real, Dom. _This,_ all of this…it’s real. You know that, right?”

She can feel Dom’s arms around her again, and when she looks up she can see the redhead smiling back at her. “I do.” Dom murmurs as she tucks a few strands of hair behind Darlene’s ear. “Or at least I’m trying to. I think that’s why I keep asking you the same thing over and over again - because how can you want to be here after what happened? How are things so… _normal_ between us now, when they were anything _but_ normal a year ago?”

She wants to tell her that she shouldn’t even be asking these questions, but _she’s_ the reason why she’s questioning herself in the first place. _She’s_ the reason why Dom can’t believe any of this is real, _she’s_ the reason why the Dark Army had her in their clutches, _she’s_ the reason why she spent so many sleepless nights sitting in that chair just a few feet away overthinking everything, _she’s_ the reason why she almost frigging died on Christmas - but they’ve had this conversation countless times since Dom got back from Europe and she’s sure Dom’s just as tired of having it as much as she is. She slugs through the same self-deprecating diatribe and Dom dives into Perfect Girlfriend Mode with her words of encouragement, and then they shove it under the rug until the next time her self-hatred becomes too much to bear.

Maybe telling Dom the truth about Susan may be a good idea after all. When Darlene finally confesses that she was the culprit all along and Dom leaves, the redhead won’t have to continuously question her reality because the reason why she’s questioning it in the first place will no longer be around. She could be living the completely normal, happy life that she deserves, free of any reminders of the terrible things she had to go through. Maybe she should just tell her now and get this over with.

“Hey.” She meets eyes with Dom once more; the redhead gives her another small, rueful smile before inching forward to place a chaste kiss on her forehead. “Let’s head back downstairs. Sorry for bringing all of that up - I know this weekend is stressful enough as it is. I don’t need to add to it.”

Darlene shakes her head. “You’re not making anything more stressful. What you’re thinking - it’s not stupid, and it makes total sense.” She sighs as her hand slides to the back of Dom’s neck again, pulling her closer. “You need to tell me these things so I can tell you how wrong you are.”

A breathy chuckle passes through Dom’s lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She briefly kisses Darlene on the mouth. “I love you. Thanks for the pep talk.”

Darlene swallows her guilt and forces on a small smile. “I love you too. I’m just glad I’m the one giving it for once.”

Dom smiles back before pulling away, reaching for her hand and lacing their fingers together. “C’mon. If we wait any longer my mom’s gonna march up here and drag us down herself.”

And just like that, her anxiety is back.

“Right.”

* * *

“So,” Trudie momentarily pulls away from her roast chicken and pasta to take a sip of her white wine. “Darlene, tell me everything about yourself - the stuff that the news hasn’t already said about you and your brother.”

“Mm.” Darlene nods; she’s in the middle of swallowing a mouthful of penne. “Well, maybe you can tell me what you already know about us, and we can get the ball rolling from there.”

Trudie throws her a wide grin before popping a forkful of chicken into her mouth. “Well, let’s see - you’re from Washington Township and your poor father died when you were just a little girl. Your family was tied up in that terrible lawsuit that led to nowhere, and that’s what drove your brother here to start that group and fight back.” She takes another sip of wine, tipping her glass in Elliot’s direction. “How on Earth did you manage to run the whole thing without your sister getting suspicious? My kids are the nosiest little-”

“Ma.” Dom cuts in, her expression exasperated. Darlene dips her head in a feeble attempt to hide the smirk hovering over her lips.

“What? You and your brothers can learn a thing or two from them; I can’t remember a time when you _weren’t_ at each other’s throats.” Trudie huffs before returning her attention to the Aldersons. “Your parents raised you right. Your mother must be so proud of you - the both of you!”

Both siblings anxiously glance at each other for a split second, wordlessly asking each other the same question: _Which one of us should break the news?_

“Uh,” Darlene’s eyes are fixated on her half-eaten pasta. “Actually, our mom died last year.”

“Wait, what?” She raises her head and swallows hard when she spots the soft shock on Dom’s face. She and Elliot agreed that they won’t lie about their parents any more than they have to. They knew that they wouldn’t be able to avoid answering questions about them, and they figured that just being honest about it and straight up telling everyone that neither of them are alive anymore may get people to back off. The thing is, she may have forgotten to tell Dom about her mom dying right before Christmas last year, but can you blame her? Her shit stain of a parent isn’t even worth mentioning in passing conversation nowadays - plus, the whole thing with Janice and the Deus Group happened right after she and Elliot stuck her in an urn, so it easily slipped through the cracks. To be honest, this is the first time she actually thought about her mom since her sorry excuse for a cremation.

Trudie’s reaction is a lot stronger; she places a hand over her mouth and her eyes are fearfully wide. “Oh...oh my goodness, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, the both of you. The news mentioned nothing about that.”

“That’s because we avoided talking to them about it.” Elliot hastily cuts in. “It’s okay, really. We weren’t very close with her anyway.”

Darlene can feel Dom’s eyes on her, but she wills herself not to turn and face her. She knows they’re going to have a conversation about this later tonight, and to be honest she doesn’t mind talking to her about it - but what if this leads to something else? What if Dom asks if she’s hiding any other secrets from her, and she has no choice but to spill everything right then and there? What if this is going to end much sooner than she thought it was?

“See?” Trudie is gaping at her daughter. “I told you it was a good idea to invite them! How could you deprive them of a good Thanksgiving meal when you knew they didn’t have a family to celebrate with?”

Dom looks like she’s at a loss for words, which invokes a skyscraper-sized wave of guilt to rise up and crash directly into Darlene. “I, I didn’t-”

“Such a joker, this one.” Trudie dismissively waves a hand before reaching for the bottle of wine and topping up her glass. “Anyways, it must’ve been quite the surprise when you found out your brother was responsible for everything, huh?”

Darlene realizes she’s addressing her again, and she wracks her brain for a witty reply. “Spending the new year in court wasn’t on my list of resolutions, that’s for sure.”

Trudie laughs, and when Dom rolls her eyes Darlene throws her a smirk. “Well, it’s a good thing it was resolved quickly. A case that big would’ve normally taken years to settle, right?”

“Yup, but Elliot and I didn’t want to drag it out any further than it had to.” Darlene shrugs as she pushes some of the pasta around her plate with her fork. “Which is why pleading guilty and joining the FBI was the best option - he’d be protected from the media, and he still gets to do his own thing. Everyone kinda wins.”

“So not only do you _look_ like an angel, but you act like one too. You got lucky with this one, huh Dom?” Trudie pauses to take a bite of her food. “I can’t imagine how stressful it must’ve been to watch your brother go through all of that hullabaloo. You’re so lovely for supporting him through thick and thin. That’s what family’s really all about.” She folds her hands beneath her chin, batting her eyelashes. “Honest to God, Darlene, it’s so great to have you here. It’s been ages since Dom brought a girl home, and the last one wasn’t even half as sweet as you.”

Dom’s face is nearly as red as her hair. “Ma, c’mon. She doesn’t wanna hear this.”

“I do, actually.” Darlene eagerly leans in, partially because she wants to change the subject and partially because she genuinely wants to hear this. “How long, exactly?”

“Oh, it’s gotta be more than five years now." Trudie laughs as Dom buries her face in her hands. “What was her name again - Dom, what was her name?"

"No one needs to know." Dom grumbles into her palms. 

"Gillian!" Trudie exclaims. "That was it - Gillian. Blonder than the sun in July, definitely a dye job. She had a great butt, though - am I right, Dom?" She stretches out her arm so she can playfully smack her daughter on the shoulder. "Guess the FBI doesn't skimp out on leg days, huh?"

"Ma! Oh my God-" Dom cries again, and Darlene has to bite her bottom lip to keep herself from laughing. Even Elliot looks amused. 

“Don’t be so dramatic, Dominique.” Trudie waves at her again. “Gillian was a nice girl, very smart, but you hit the jackpot with this one here.” She nods in Darlene’s direction. “If you know what’s good for you, you best sink your teeth in and never let her go.”

Dom’s face somehow gets redder, but she reaches underneath the table to grasp Darlene’s hand. She squeezes as she turns to smile at her mother. “I wasn’t planning on letting go any time soon.”

The guilt comes back full force, and Darlene’s suddenly finding it very hard to swallow. She reaches for her glass and finishes whatever’s left of her wine, but it isn’t enough to wash away the painful lump lodged in her throat.

* * *

It’s the first thing Dom brings up the second the both of them are back in their room.

“Why didn’t you tell me your mom died?”

Darlene sighs, runs a hand through her hair, and sits by the foot of the bed. “I told you we weren’t that close. It’s been months since we talked. I actually don’t even remember the last time I saw her before she croaked.”

“Still.” Dom kneels over her luggage and zips it open. “I would’ve been there for you if you needed me.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you probably wouldn’t have.” Darlene crosses her arms. “She died just before Christmas, so it was right in the middle of all the other shit that was going on at the time - y’know, when you still hated my guts and everything.”

“That doesn’t make it any better.” Dom grabs an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts before rising to her feet. “So you mean to say that on top of all the stuff that was going on with fsociety and the Dark Army, you were dealing with your mom dying too?”

“Yeah, but like I said, we weren’t close.” She shrugs. “It wasn’t that big a deal. Elliot and I had bigger fish to fry.”

“Shit.” Dom plops down next to her. There’s a haunted look on her face, like she just came to a sudden realization about something, and it’s forcing Darlene’s pulse to accelerate.

“What?”

“Before Christmas, we haven’t spoken since the day Irving killed Santiago - when I said all those...things to you.” Dom dips her head a little. “Then all of that happened to you afterward: Angela, your mom, Janice-”

Darlene shakes her head and places her hands on Dom’s cheeks, pulling her in so that their foreheads are pressed against each other. “You aren’t responsible for anything that happened to me after that day, okay? I’m never going to let you take the blame for it, so you better stop thinking like that right now.” She sighs. “Look, my mom was a piece of shit, and that’s putting it nicely. She didn’t give a fuck about Elliot and me and we’re honestly better off without her. She didn’t deserve visitors when she was alive, she didn’t deserve visitors when she died, and she definitely didn’t deserve to know you.”

This is all so horrendously wrong. Dom shouldn’t be the one swimming in guilt right now.

“I still shouldn’t have said all that stuff to you.” Dom frowns. “None of it is true.”

“You had every fucking right to. It was true in the moment and it was true for a little while afterward too - fuck, you can even say it's _still_ true.” Darlene insists. “I ruined your life. I hurt you and you were angry. I get it, Dom, I really do - but you didn’t cause the shit storm that happened afterward.” She forces on a smile, hoping to lighten the mood a bit. “Well, okay, you might’ve given me a concussion, but that’s it.”

Dom leans back a bit and laughs; her eyes are glazed over but they aren’t shedding any tears. She cups a hand on the back of Darlene’s neck and pulls her in to plant a kiss on the top of her head. “I still feel really bad about that.” She brushes a few brown strands away from her face. “None of the shit I said to you that day was true. None of it is true now and it won't ever be. You're not a terrible person, and if we actually put in the effort to dig past the surface of how I really feel about you, we'd be here forever because I have a lot to say, and they're all good things. You also don't deserve agony for the rest of your life.”

“But I did ruin your life and take everything from you.” Darlene mumbles.

“Temporarily, yes, but things got better, didn't they?” Dom smiles reassuringly. “I know I talk about wanting to strangle you sometimes, but I would never hurt you on purpose.” She wraps her other arm around her waist, pulling her onto her lap and burying her face into her shoulder. “When I hit you and you passed out, I freaked out for a good hour. I couldn’t handle what I did to you - what I _almost_ did to you. God, Darlene, I held a goddamn gun to your head and I was _this_ close to pulling the trigger. Do you know how fucked up that is?”

The strained agony in the redhead’s tone tugs at Darlene’s heartstrings and it’s only amplifying the guilt screaming inside of her. “You did what you had to do.” She threads her fingers through Dom’s hair, forcing herself to sound as even-keeled as possible. “You had to protect your family.”

“But going so far as to killing someone to do it?” Dom shakes her head. “It wouldn’t have been right. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I went through with it.”

This conversation only makes her less inclined to divulge the truth. “Just...don’t feel bad, okay? You have no reason to.” She presses her cheek against Dom’s forehead, quickly thinking of a way to change the subject. “If anything, you should feel guilty over not telling me about this Gillian chick. She sounds like a hottie.”

Dom groans into her neck. “She was another agent; we met in Quantico. Remember when I told you I was on again off again with someone? That’s who I was talking about.”

“But your mom said it’s been more than five years.”

“I didn’t say I was _currently_ on again off again with her. You just assumed that.”

“Touché.” Darlene smirks. She climbs off of her and scoots farther back on the mattress, grabbing Dom by the wrist and pulling her along. When her back touches the headboard she ducks under Dom’s arm and nestles against her, nuzzling her head into the curve of her neck. “Did she really have a nice ass?”

Dom snorts. “It was the stuff of goddesses.”

They both laugh, and then Darlene nudges Dom’s jaw with the tip of her nose - a non-verbal request to get her to angle her head downward so she can kiss her. “I’m sorry,” She mumbles against Dom’s mouth. “For not telling you about my mom and shit. That probably would’ve been an important detail to know before coming here.”

“It’s fine.” Dom quickly kisses her back. “I don’t expect you to tell me everything, but if there’s anything I need to know, you’ll say something, right?”

There couldn’t be a worse time to ask this question.

“Obviously.” Darlene is clearly forcing the nonchalance in her tone, but Dom seems to have bought it, which kind of weirds her out. It’s not like her to take things at face value, especially with her.

“Good.” Dom kisses her again. “You were great today, by the way. You’re gonna kill it tomorrow.”

Darlene bites her bottom lip. “But _everyone’s_ gonna be there tomorrow. It was just your mom today. It’s different.”

“Trust me when I say they’re not very hard to impress.” Dom wraps her arm around her waist. “Honestly, my mom’s the only person who really matters. I really don’t care what Jerry and Joseph think.”

Darlene tries to relax as she nestles in Dom’s arms, closing her eyes as the redhead plays with her hair. “Do you know how they feel about Elliot and all the shit that went down with him? They must’ve followed the news.”

“Oh, they’re ecstatic.” Dom grumbles. “They can’t wait to meet _the real life Robin Hood_ \- Jerry’s exact words, I swear to God.” She kisses Darlene on the forehead. “Try not to overthink it.”

She almost wants to laugh at the irony of that sentence. Guess they’ve come full circle now.


	3. This is not what you signed up for

By the time the pair head into the kitchen the next morning, Elliot’s already hunched over the island with a rolling pin and a thin layer of flour dusted across his cheeks. Trudie’s dog is sitting next to him, its tail wagging so quickly it looks like a flashy golden blur.

“What the hell are you doing?” Darlene’s face hurts from laughing so hard. Dom, on the other hand, looks like she wants to crawl under a rock and never come out.

“Your grandma,” Elliot nods in the redhead’s direction, his expression hilariously hopeless. “She said she needed help with the pie. I couldn’t say no.”

The look on Dom’s face is one of pure horror. “Wait, did you just say my gr-”

“Incoming!” Trudie and a lithe older woman with short silvery hair explode into the room; the tray in Trudie’s arms is holding the world’s largest turkey, and the other woman - whom Darlene assumes is Dom’s grandmother - is cradling a bowl of pecans. “Girls, there’s breakfast laid out for you in the dining room. Dig in, and then you can get straight to work. Dom, once you’re done, I’m gonna need you to start on the mashed potatoes; can you take the butter out of the fridge before you go?”

“How’s the crust coming, Elliot?” The older woman sets the pecans aside before peeking over his shoulder. “Are your arms sore yet?”

“Um, I think it’s okay.” He rubs the back of his neck, inadvertently smudging more flour on himself; Trudie’s dog barks as if to laugh at him. “I’m not really sure.”

“This is better than anything my grandkids ever rolled for me.” She claps him on the shoulder and spins around to face Darlene. “And who’s this lovely lady?”

“Darlene Alderson.” Trudie answers before Darlene can even open her mouth to speak for herself. “C’mon, Ma, you know her. Her face was all over CNN for weeks.”

“Oh, yes! I thought I recognized your pretty mug from somewhere.” The age lines on her face tighten as she smiles, opening her thin arms and stepping closer towards the frightened younger woman, grabbing her by the face and kissing her on both cheeks. She smells like a bakery, which is exactly what Darlene imagined all grandmothers to smell like. She wouldn’t know, since she never met hers. “Welcome to the family, hon. I hope you like pecan pie - it’s a speciality of mine.” She winks, and Darlene decides right then and there that she likes her a lot - so much, in fact, that she’s willing to overlook being called _hon_. It actually feels like it’s necessary; it wouldn’t have felt right if she _didn’t_ call her that, which is a weird but pleasant change.

“I’ve never had it before, actually, but there’s a first time for everything.”

“Adventurous! I like you already.” Dom’s grandmother playfully elbows her in the ribs as she lets out a laugh that sounds eerily similar to Trudie’s. “How’d you bag this one, Dom? She’s great. Okay, you two get some food in you, and then we’ll get right to work.” She hurriedly ushers them into the dining room before scurrying back to the kitchen.

“Your grandma is quite the lady.” Darlene laughs as she takes a seat and reaches for the pitcher of orange juice.

“If there’s anyone who can convince Elliot to roll pie crust, it’s her.” Dom shakes her head with amusement; she tips a few strips of bacon onto her plate before passing it over. “She was the first one in the family who approved of me ditching the bar exam for the FBI. Everyone else thought it was a death sentence, especially my mom, but her…” She laughs a little quietly to herself. “She said it made me look like a superhero, and that she couldn’t picture me as a stuffy lawyer anyway. She singlehandedly convinced everyone that it was a good idea.”

Ah, another loving family anecdote she can’t relate to. “Must be nice to have someone in your corner like that.”

“It is.” Dom smiles as she digs into her scrambled eggs, and they lapse into a semi-awkward silence. Darlene was always aware of the very, _very_ different ways they’ve been brought up, but it’s only dawning on her now how different they truly are. Dom doesn’t seem to know what it’s like to have a family member who went out of their way to make her life miserable; it seems like all of her relatives are generally supportive, inclusive, loving, and understanding. Aside from the whole _I killed Susan Jacobs_ thing, would this be another hurdle they’ll have difficulty overcoming? Were they brought up _too_ differently? What if she finally tells Dom about all the shitty things her mom has done to her, and she doesn’t understand it? What if they never come to an understanding about it, just like how she knows they’ll never come to an understanding about what happened to Susan?

When they finish up with breakfast and return to the kitchen, Dom’s grandmother appears by her side again. “While your brother’s working on the crust, how’s about we team up on the filling?”

Darlene turns her head for a second just to catch Dom smiling at her before Trudie pulls her away. There’s a distant look to the redhead’s stare, almost like she’s thinking of something else while she’s looking at her. Is she imagining then next Thanksgiving, and all the Thanksgivings after that? Is she hoping that she’ll still be here, laughing along with her grandmother as they work on the pecan pie together?

She swallows quickly as she returns her gaze to the older woman. “Sounds good to me.”

* * *

Darlene spends most of the day stewing over her newly discovered anxieties; it gets to the point where she’s so deep in thought that she nearly slices her hand open while chopping mushrooms. As a result, she’s banned from using any sharp objects, and by late afternoon she’s relegated to setting the table with her brother.

“You’re not okay.” Elliot finally declares as he steps into the dining room with a small stack of red, yellow, and orange napkins.

“No shit.” Darlene hisses as she fumbles with the silverware. “What the fuck’s the difference between a dessert spoon and a regular spoon? And why do you need a separate knife just for the salad? Who eats a fucking salad with a fucking knife?”

“Calm down.” He glances over his shoulder to make sure everyone else is still in the kitchen. “Tell me what’s wrong. Are you still stressing out over…the thing we talked about?”

She heaves a sigh and watches Elliot carefully place the napkins over the plates. “Obviously. That, and the fact that this is just… _so_ different from what we’re used to. Doesn’t it weird you out just a little? Everything’s so…normal. It feels like I’m waiting for something bad to happen, but that thing is never actually coming, so I’m stuck in this perpetual, anxious anticipation and it’s the fucking worst. Why do I keep doing this to myself? I keep thinking that things are gonna go wrong because…because what? Because things are _too good?”_

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Elliot assures her. “It’s part of the-”

“Part of the process, I know.” She rolls her eyes. “Fuck, I was _just_ talking to Dom about this yesterday too. She feels the exact same way, did you know? Sometimes she can’t believe this is real because she was just so used to things being so terrible all the time, and _I_ had to be the one to tell her she was wrong.” She scoffs as she lines up the knives against each other. “What a fucking joke. I can’t even practice what I preach.”

“Caring for someone else is a lot different than caring for yourself.” Elliot moves to stand beside her and fixes the knives that she just placed on the table. Apparently they weren’t straight enough. “I think you’re letting your guilt eat away at you.”

“You think I want to feel this way?” Darlene growls. “I’d love it if I could just somehow _not_ feel things all the time. Have you ever thought about how much feelings suck? Because I do, all the goddamn time.”

“You’re working yourself up.” He’s being so annoyingly calm right now and it’s only making her bristle even more. “Remember that one year when Dad almost burned the house down because he left the turkey in for too long?”

“That was the last Thanksgiving we ever had.” Her voice is noticeably quieter, and her eyes are downcast. Elliot never likes talking about their dad anymore for obvious reasons; he only brings him up when he knows Darlene is about to have an episode. She always feels guilty when she makes him feel like it’s necessary to talk about their dad. She’s practically forcing him to remember things he desperately wants to forget; it makes her feel like she’s impeding his progress, like she’s pushing him a few steps back.

“The kitchen smelled like smoke the whole weekend.” He chuckles as he folds another napkin. “No one wanted to cook anymore, so we just-”

“Ordered pizza.” Darlene defeatedly finishes for him. She tosses the rest of the cutlery on the table and shakes her head. “Mom smacked me on the head for spilling sauce on the couch, and then her and Dad got into a huge fight. I slept in your room that night because we were scared she was gonna keep hitting me after they were done.” There’s a beat of silence; she half-turns away from him, rubbing her forearm. “You don’t have to keep talking about him, you know. I’m sure there are better ways to keep my dumb ass in check.”

There’s a shadow of discomfort on his face, but it fades quickly. “No, I think it’s good that I talk about him. Avoiding the subject is just going to suppress the memories again and we both know how well that turned out the last few times.” He frowns when she doesn’t laugh at his terrible attempt at a joke. “Darlene, if you’re here to remember things for me, then I’m here to keep you together when you’re falling apart.”

The tears spring to her eyes, and she hastily wipes them away with the end of her sleeve. “Can you _not_ be all mushy and sentimental right now? What if Trudie walks in?”

Elliot laughs; he reaches for the leftover cutlery and makes his way around the table so he can set them properly. Picking up the slack for her, like always. “No matter what happens between you and Dom, I just want you to know that I’m here for you. Out of all the possible outcomes, none of them end up with you alone. There’s always gonna be a you and me - that’s just the way it is. It’s the way it always was.”

“Holy shit, Elliot.” She groans as she swipes at her eyes again. A part of her wants to return the affection, but she really can’t deal with her emotions right now, and brushing him off is just so much easier. “Do you take some sort of sick pleasure out of doing this to me? Stop it already.” In an attempt to change the subject, she scoffs at his handiwork. “How the hell are you so good at this?”

“I dunno.” He shrugs as he straightens the last set of forks. “Like you said, it’s different from what we’re used to, but…it’s nice. Dom has a great family. They don’t care about who we are, or what we’ve done; all they want is for us to not be alone on Thanksgiving. This is the least I can do for them.”

It’s such a simple answer, and yet Darlene still can’t find herself to fully agree with him. She wants to say she’s sure Dom’s family would feel differently if they knew the whole truth and not just what the news reported, but Dom’s grandmother unexpectedly marches in and puts an abrupt end to their conversation. “Now _that_ is how you set a table!” Her thin arms are laden with a cornucopia filled to the brim with different kinds of squash. She lays it out in the centre of the table, artfully spreading its contents around. “You sure you kids never decorated for Thanksgiving dinner before? It’s looking like an episode of Martha Stewart around here.”

Dom walks in soon afterward; she immediately takes her place next to Darlene, slinking an arm around her waist and nodding approvingly towards the table before leaning in to murmur into her ear, “Lemme guess - Elliot did most of the work.”

It feels impossible to smile right now, but she forces one anyway, leaning in to touch Dom’s shoulder with the side of her head. “You know me so well.”

The doorbell rings, and everyone’s heads snap towards the front of the house. “Oh, they’re here!” Trudie exclaims from the kitchen, and she scrambles down the hall towards the front door to answer it. Dom’s grandmother shuffles her way out of the room to join her.

“Ready?” Dom’s mouth is still inches away from Darlene’s ear.

“To be honest,” Darlene mutters out of the corner of her mouth. “Not really.” She can hear loud voices booming in the foyer, and both her and Elliot visibly tense up.

“You’ll be fine.” Dom’s hand is suddenly in hers, squeezing reassuringly. She gives a nod of encouragement in Elliot’s direction. “You’ll both be fine. They’re crazy, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.”

She’s right. Socializing with a large, obnoxious family for one night should be a walk in the park compared to everything they’ve been through in the past year - but she knows that’s not what’s gnawing away at her conscience right now.

* * *

The brief descriptions Dom gave for her brothers and their families are spot on, particularly the part about their wives. They’re carbon copies of The Stepford Wives with Pandora bracelets and yearly yoga memberships, and their personalities barely have any depth, but like Dom said - they’re harmless, and they were too busy gossiping with each other to maintain a lengthy conversation with anyone else so they mostly kept to themselves. Dom wasn’t lying when she said her nephews were spoiled brats, but they were too engrossed in their phones and iPads to pay much attention to the two strangers awkwardly sitting next to each other at the table as Trudie carves the turkey.

“I’ll have you know,” Joseph’s mouth is half-full with green bean casserole. “I supported you-” He points his fork to Elliot before shifting it to Darlene. “-the both of you, from the very beginning. Elliot did the right thing. You showed ‘em who’s boss.”

“We all supported you.” Jerry chimes in. “Pops, not so much at the start. Thought you were just some bozo who was way over his head-”

“His exact words!” Joseph laughs.

“His exact words,” Jerry echoes. “But he warmed up to you eventually, especially when he found out you had the balls to plead guilty and admit to everything you’ve ever done. That takes guts.”

“Language, Jerry.” Trudie chides, and he rolls his eyes.

“I’m surprised he got off light for the eCoin stuff though.” One of their wives, Darlene’s not really sure if she’s Jerry’s or Joseph’s, haughtily adds. “Didn’t think those billionaires would be okay with having all that money swiped from ‘em.”

“Who’s gonna fight it, though?” Jerry exclaims, flailing his hands so passionately he nearly pokes his brother in the eye with his knife. “It’s not like anyone’s gonna give all that money back. Their hands were tied; they had no choice to suck it up.”

“Still.” Jerry-or-Joseph’s-wife rolls her eyes. “Theft is theft.”

“Those rich guys stole from the people first. Elliot just gave it back to their rightful owners, and let’s be honest - it was chump change for ‘em. It’s not like any of those billionaires are out on the streets right now. They’ll live.” Jerry fires back. Darlene finds it annoying that they’re talking about her brother like he isn’t sitting directly across from them. “Hey, Elliot - don’t mind her. It’s a noble thing, what you did. You should be proud.”

Elliot’s eyes are staring directly at his plate, a shadow of a blush brushed over his cheeks. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Jerry winks at him. “Everyone’s been talking about stickin’ it to those guys for decades now. You were the only one who actually stepped up and did something about it.”

“He still broke the law.” Dom rolls her eyes, and Darlene has half a mind to stick in a joke about her being a buzzkill. “He broke _multiple_ laws, actually. Are we just going to forget about Five/Nine?”

“Check out this narc.” Joseph snickers, and his brother joins in. “Don’t be such a hypocrite, Dom; you broke a buncha laws too. It’s a friggin’ miracle the FBI took you back after all the stunts you pulled.”

“I had no choice.” Dom grits her teeth. “I was under duress and the bureau understood that. You wouldn’t even _be_ here right now if I didn’t comply with the Dark Army; I did all those things to protect you and your family, idiot.”

“Dom.” Trudie warns. “Joseph.”

“Oh, look - we got ourselves an American hero in the family!” Joseph rolls his eyes as he scoops up a spoonful of mashed potatoes. “Thank you for your sacrifice, Agent DiPierro. It’s greatly appreciated.”

Dom looks like she’s about to leap over this table and sock her brother in the face, but their mother intervenes (Much to Darlene’s dismay). “Cut it out, the both of you!” Trudie reaches for Elliot’s plate and gives him a relatively thick slice of turkey breast. “I’ll be honest, Elliot - I don’t agree with everything you did. There were a few things that could’ve been handled better, but I know you only had the best intentions. You were just trying to save the world a little, right?”

Elliot finally lifts his head to gawk at her. Darlene immediately knows what’s running through his mind right now: _Is this real? Is she actually supporting and praising me? Is this what it feels like to have a mom who actually gives a shit about me?_ “I guess so, yeah.” There’s a slight wavering to his voice, and she reaches for his hand underneath the table so she can give it a reassuring squeeze. “But I made a lot of mistakes too. A lot of innocent people got hurt, and…” He shakes his head, swallowing hard. “So many people were lost. _Way_ too many people. So many of them had nothing to do with what happened, yet they got the worst of it, and it was all my fault.”

A heavy silence falls over the table. It’s clear he’s referring to The 71, and maybe Mobley and Trenton too. “Elliot.” Darlene finally speaks up; she squeezes his hand again and looks directly into his eyes. “You tried to stop it. The Dark Army pulled a fast one on all of u-“ She quickly backtracks. “On you. No one saw that coming.”

“Your sister’s right.” Trudie gives him a warm smile as she hands him back his plate. “You did the best you could, hon. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“Hey, yeah.” Joseph pipes up. He lifts his bottle of Budweiser and tips it in Elliot’s direction. “It wasn’t your fault, man. Everyone knows that. We know it.”

“There hasn’t been a single major event that went down in history without loss.” Dom’s grandmother adds. “It was a tragedy, that’s for sure, but you did what no one else has been able to do. Maybe those billionaires aren’t gonna be begging for food stamps anytime soon, but you definitely knocked ‘em down a few pegs. You let them know they aren’t as invincible as they thought they were, and I think that’s really gonna change things from here on on out.” The smile she’s giving him is brimming with matronly affection and it throws both Alderson siblings off. They’re clearly not used to this. “And if I’m being completely honest with you, hon - not everyone who was lost along the way was totally innocent. Now, I would _never_ wish death on anyone - _ever -_ but that woman, oh, what’s her name-” Her face scrunches up with concentration. “-the one who worked for E Corp, she disappeared or something-“

“Susan Jacobs?” Joseph-or-Jerry’s-wife asks, and Darlene can feel her blood run cold. “She had that weird nickname ‘cause she was so mean to everyone.”

“Madam Executioner! Only the baddest of the bad have nicknames like that.” Joseph laughs. “Good riddance. It was downright despicable, what she did to all those people - especially your old man. Didn’t they find out that she was workin’ with the Dark Army under the table too? She sounded like a real character.”

“She was evil incarnate.” Dom’s grandmother tuts. “Now, like I said, I would never wish death on anyone, but I’d be lying if I said I was sad she’s gone.”

Darlene can feel a ringing in her ears. Her heart is slamming itself against her ribcage to the point where she thinks it might splinter the bone.

“But that wasn’t you, was it?” Jerry’s looking at Elliot again. “There’s no way you coulda done it; I know you're not a murderer. Didn’t they say it was someone else from fsociety who killed her?”

Elliot’s eyes shift over to Darlene for a second. She can read the concern all over his face, which must mean she isn’t doing a very good job at hiding her discomfort right now. “Uh…”

“No one knows what happened to her.” Dom reaches for the gravy. “There’s no body, so there’s no murder conviction. It’s widely assumed that Francis Shaw - Cisco - had something to do with her disappearance, but that’s as far as the investigation goes.”

“Right, that Cisco guy.” Joseph nods before shovelling a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. “But he’s dead now too, isn’t he?”

“Gunned down by the Dark Army. I was there when it happened.” Dom casually replies. “The truth died with him, I guess.”

Darlene can still hear the sound of the taser hissing as it came in contact with Susan’s chest. She can hear the splash of her body toppling into the water. She can still smell the chlorine.

“Well, like Nonna said, I’d be lying if I said I missed her.” Joseph shrugs. “We don’t need any more of those E Corp whack jobs walking around anyway.”

“She could still be alive.” Dom points out. Darlene can feel her collar closing in on her neck and she hastily gulps down some of her water just to check if there’s enough space in her throat for air to pass through. “It’s possible she could’ve just packed up and ran off because she didn’t want to be held accountable for her crimes.”

“I know you don’t believe that.” Joseph rolls his eyes before taking a swig of beer. “Everyone knows that when someone _disappears-”_ He makes air quotes with his fingers. “-it really means they were hacked to pieces and buried in someone’s backyard.”

“Joseph!” Trudie exclaims, completely appalled.

“What? It’s true.” Joseph shrugs as he digs into his share of the turkey. “But I guess we’ll never know for sure, unless we can bring that Cisco guy back from the dead.” He scoffs. “What kind of a name is _Cisco,_ anyway?”

Darlene can feel her chest contracting. Her head is starting to feel a little light, and she grips her knees for stability. She _really_ doesn’t want to have a panic attack right now, not in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner, in front of Dom’s family - but she can feel it coming and she doesn’t know if she can stop it.

She knows Dom can sense her uneasiness, because she slips one hand beneath the table and grips her thigh - a silent confirmation to let her know she’s here and that she knows she’s uncomfortable. It’s sweet, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t love Dom a little bit more every time she did this, but she has it all wrong. She probably thinks she’s freaking out because the mention of Cisco is bringing back unpleasant memories. If Dom knew the real reason as to why Darlene is on the verge of a breakdown right now, she most likely won’t be as doting.

But she allows Dom to comfort her anyway because it helps - it always does. Darlene slides a hand on top of Dom’s and squeezes, wordlessly thanking her for being there even though she really shouldn’t be. Dom briefly turns her head to smile at her, and Darlene dips her head slightly. To everyone else it looks like she’s just being shy, but in reality she’s just so deep in guilt that she can’t bring it upon herself to make eye contact. Dom knows her _too_ well - if she looked her in the eyes right now, she’ll automatically know what she’s thinking. She’ll know _everything,_ and when she finally knows everything, she’ll leave, and she won’t ever be around to discreetly pull her out of her panic attacks ever again. She won’t be the first thing she sees when she wakes up in the morning. Her voice will no longer be there to patiently coax her out of another one of her episodes.

“Alright, I think that’s enough doom and gloom for one day. I don’t think Elliot or Darlene want to hear any more of this.” Dom’s grandmother shakes her head. “Why do we always end up talking about murder when we’re together?”

“Because Dom works for the FBI and the murder stories are the most interesting ones.” Jerry snidely replies, and the rest of the table - sans Darlene, Elliot, and Dom - laugh.

“We just want you to know that we are very glad to have you here. I know you kids have been through a lot. I can imagine this can be a little overwhelming for the both of you.” Dom’s grandmother casts them another warm smile. “Just remember that you’re part of the family now, and you don’t have to go through anything by yourselves anymore, okay? I’m proud of you, Elliot - and you too, Darlene. People like you give me hope for the future.”

“Hell yeah.” Jerry grabs his beer and holds it high above his head. “How’s about a toast?”

“Jerry, watch your mouth. The kids’ll hear you.” Trudie hisses again, but she raises her glass of red anyway. Everyone else raises their drinks afterward; Elliot and Darlene hesitantly raise theirs last, anxiously stealing glances from each other. They’re not used to having the spotlight like this, at least not in a close, intimate setting. The news coverage of Elliot’s trial and the general support of the public was different. Here, it’s so much more personal and one-on-one; they can actually see and hear the praise and know who it’s coming from, and it’s weird. It’s especially weird knowing that all of this is coming from Dom’s family, whom Darlene didn’t peg as fsociety supporters at first. Their upper middle class upbringing and Dom’s penchant for law and order made her assume that they would’ve taken the Deus Group’s side - but she was proved wrong. At least she can take a weird sort of comfort in knowing that Dom’s the _only_ narc in her family.

“To Thanksgiving, to longevity, to family,” Jerry grins and gestures towards the Aldersons with his beer. “And to Elliot Alderson, who saved the frickin’-”

Trudie’s eyes narrow menacingly. _“Language,_ Jerry-”

“What? The kids’ll be fine, stop worrying so much.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, a toast to Elliot, for making the world a better place - and to Darlene, for proving that little sisters can be cool after all.”

“Oh, c’mon-” Dom cries, but it’s quickly drowned out by her family’s laughter and their glasses clinking together. Trudie’s dog, who’s been hiding underneath the table this whole time in the hopes that it’ll catch some fallen scraps, barks enthusiastically.

Darlene swallows a generous amount of wine, but her appetite has completely vanished.

* * *

After that eventful dinner conversation, Darlene finds it tremendously difficult to get back into the spirit of things. She helps the family clear the table and allows Dom to drag her into the living room afterward, but she’s so lost in thought that she can barely hear Jerry and Joseph yelling at the football game playing on TV. She can’t muster up the motivation to laugh when Dom’s nephews force Elliot into playing some random video game with them on their iPads. Dom’s grandmother even saves her a slice of pecan pie, and while it tastes amazing, the feeling of impending doom is barring her from fully enjoying it.

She knows that Dom can sense there’s something wrong, but she knows she isn’t going to address it until later when everyone leaves. At this point it feels like she’s just counting down the minutes she has left with Dom, her family, and this wonderful illusion of normality. She tries to enjoy what little time she has left, but it’s hard when she’s so aware of how close she is to the end. She tries to stave off the feeling with a few more glasses of wine, but it does little to improve the situation. Now, on top of feeling miserable, she’s also tipsy and sleepy.

Darlene is so entrenched in her thoughts that she doesn’t even realize how much time has passed when the rest of Dom’s family finally leave the house. Her eyes blink rapidly in disbelief as they stare at the grandfather clock resting by the far wall; how is it already eleven in the evening?

“You look tired.” Dom reaches for her hand and pulls her off the couch.

“It’s the turkey.” Darlene mutters as she follows the redhead up the stairs. “Every time I thought I was finished, your mom would pile more on my plate. It was ever ending.”

“She was serious when she said she was going to make sure you and Elliot gain weight this weekend.” Dom laughs as she opens the door to their room. She places her hand on the small of Darlene’s back and gently guides her inside.

Darlene shuffles over to the bed and flops face first onto the mattress. “Your brother’s a dick.”

She can feel the mattress sink a little as Dom moves to sit next to her. “Which one?” The redhead mutters.

“Well, I guess both, but I was talking about Joseph.” She shifts her head slightly so she can look up at her. “He doesn’t know half of the shit you went through for him. None of them do.”

Dom shrugs. “It’s better that way. I don’t want him - any of them - knowing the full story.”

“Why?” Darlene asks. “Dom, you risked your job _and_ your life for them more than once. You deserve to be recognized for that.”

“I didn’t do it for the recognition. As annoying as they can be sometimes, I love them and I want to protect them, and I’d do anything to make that happen.” The redhead shrugs again. “That’s just what you do for the people you care about - you do shit without expecting anything in return.”

Darlene still isn’t convinced. “Yeah, but you should still-”

Dom shakes her head. “It’s just easier this way, okay? They don’t have to know. The details aren’t necessary. What matters is that they’re safe now.” She looks away for a second, sighing heavily. It’s obvious she doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. “I’m sorry about dinner, by the way.”

Darlene tenses at the change in subject. “Sorry for what?”

“For not changing the subject, I guess. I didn’t know they were gonna end up talking about Cisco.”

“It’s fine.” She mumbles.

“Is it?” Dom’s tone is uncertain. “You didn’t look fine. You actually looked worried all night long. If I knew it was gonna bother you that much I would’ve said something.”

This conversation is clearly steering towards what she hoped they would never have to talk about, but she might as well get it over with now. It isn’t going to hurt any less if she keeps procrastinating. “It’s nothing like that.”

She hears Dom exhale loudly through her nose. “If it’s my family, I totally get it. They’re a lot to deal with, and I know they can be-”

Darlene lets out a small growl of frustration, rolling on her back and begrudgingly rising to a sitting position. “It’s not that either. It has nothing to do with them, or you. It has nothing to do with any of this.”

Dom shakes her head, and her tresses swish around her face in slow motion. The dim light from the nightstand lamp shines a deep, rusty red into her hair and it’s so irritatingly beautiful that it’s nearly enough to make Darlene’s chest cave in. “Then what is it?”

She leans forward, sighing heavily and brushing her hair back before standing up and moving closer towards the window. “Cisco didn’t kill Susan.”

There’s a long stretch of silence. “What?”

“Cisco wasn’t the only one responsible for Susan Jacobs’ disappearance.” Darlene keeps her eyes trained on the window, staring blankly at the lone street lamp across the driveway. “It was me. It was _all_ me. I’m the one you’re looking for, officer.”

“Darlene.” Dom rises to her feet and steps closer towards her. “Are you telling me the truth?”

“Why the fuck would I lie about this?” She laughs bitterly as she half-turns to finally face the redhead. “It’s only been weighing on my conscience for the past fucking year. Yeah, I killed Susan Jacobs. Tased her straight in the chest, right over her pacemaker. She probs died instantly, I dunno.” She raises her arms, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “Then Cisco and I burned the evidence. That’s all there is to it.”

Darlene’s never seen Dom look so distraught before, and that’s saying a lot seeing as they’ve been through actual hell together. “Were you ever planning on telling me this, or are you only bringing it up now because it was brought it up at dinner?”

“I was…planning on telling you.” Darlene stares at the wall over Dom’s shoulder; she’s afraid of making eye contact again because she knows she’ll straight up collapse if she looks at her. “I just didn’t know how to do it. Believe me, Dom, I wanted to tell you earlier - like, _way_ earlier, but-”

“But what?” The redhead narrows her eyes. “I asked you what happened that night, Darlene, and you constantly avoided answering my questions. I _knew_ you had something to do with it, I fucking _knew_ it, but…” She lets out an exasperated growl, shaking her head again. “So, you just took her life for no reason?”

“Oh, there were plenty of reasons. They just weren’t good enough to justify what I did.” Darlene shrugs. She’s kind of scared at how casual she is with this. “Did you know that she laughed when the Washington Township lawsuit was thrown out? I was four when it happened - four fucking years old, barely old enough to start school - and I still remember the way her laugh sounded when the judge gave the verdict. She _enjoyed_ every single second of it. She was thrilled that E Corp didn’t have to bear any responsibility for the shit my dad, Angela’s mom, and all their other employees went through for them.” She runs a hand through her hair. “Maybe that’s why I did it. I dunno. I didn’t think I’d be able to go through with it, but I did. A part of me knew it was wrong, but it was already too late. She was floating in that fucking pool with no heartbeat. The deed’s been done.”

“So that’s why you’ve been acting weird lately. It was never because of Thanksgiving, was it? Jesus H, Darlene.” Dom’s in disbelief. “Her case is still open. They haven’t stopped looking for leads. They haven’t even considered declaring her legally dead yet. People are still holding out hope that she’s out there somewhere. Alive.” She begins to pace the room. “Darlene, you…you _murdered_ her. You’re a murderer.”

Darlene quirks an eyebrow. “And you aren’t? Are you aware of who you work for? I’ve seen you shoot a guy in the face after shooting two others. Don’t think your hands are clean either.” She doesn’t even know why she’s bringing this up. It’s not like it’s going to lessen the severity of what she’s done. It doesn’t erase what she did.

“I wasn’t given a choice!” Dom exclaims. “It was either them or me, and I sure as hell didn’t want it to be me. You just took someone’s life because…because what? You didn’t like the way she laughed?”

“She was one of the main reasons why E Corp was able to get away with so much shit.” Darlene’s eyes narrow. “She wasn’t called Madam Executioner just for kicks. She kept their reputations squeaky clean so they can continue wrecking others. That’s what she was paid for.”

“That still doesn’t justify murdering her!” Dom flails her arms. “Do you realize what the repercussions are? You can get thrown in jail for life.”

Darlene snorts. “Maybe if I’m lucky they’ll give me the death penalty.”

“That could also be possible, seeing as there was a very clear intent.” Dom throws her a glare, and it chills Darlene to the bone. She was expecting a lecture, but she wasn’t expecting her to add onto her death penalty joke. It’s almost like she agrees with it, or that she wants it to happen. Dom would never wish that on her, would she? She can’t be _that_ blindly loyal to the law.

“So let me get this straight.” Darlene crosses her arms. “You get a free pass for killing _three_ people because they were the bad guys who wanted you dead, but I have to get jail time because I killed the world’s largest conglomerate’s lawsuit janitor? Do you realize how fucked up that is, Dom? How far up the FBI’s ass are you?”

“The Dark Army are terrorists.” Dom hisses. “They’re willing to hurt others so they can get their point across. They think their way is the only way.”

“And E Corp doesn’t do the same?” Darlene counters. “Also, the FBI have been making bank off hurting and oppressing people for decades.”

“That’s different.”

“It is _so_ not different and you know it.” Darlene laughs out of disbelief, but on the inside she’s screaming at herself. Why is she even fighting back? What’s the point? “Legality doesn’t always coincide with morality. Enforcing a rule that was signed off by a bunch of old rich dudes in suits doesn’t mean it’s right. You of all people should know this, Dom. There are corrupt people in our governments, in our institutions, in our law enforcement. They swear an oath to serve the public, only to turn their backs on them and abuse the power they promised to use for good. You saw it happen with your stupid boss.”

Dom opens her mouth, but closes it soon afterward. Darlene knows what this means: She wants to keep going, to keep pushing back, to keep defending herself, but there’s no point. They’re at a stalemate; if they keep this up they’ll be arguing for the rest of their lives.

She should’ve known this was how Dom was going to react. When she caught her that night for trying to steal her badge, the first thing she did after dragging her in for another interrogation was file a report on the relations they had that led up to the situation in the first place. Dom has a very clear, albeit oversimplified idea of what’s right and what’s wrong. Maybe it’s been embedded into her after being involved in law enforcement for so long. Maybe it’s just who she is. Either way, this isn’t something that can be easily reprogrammed or changed.

“I...” Dom sighs, turning away from her. “I don’t know where to go from here, Darlene. I really don’t.”

There’s a painful echo ringing inside of her. She suddenly feels empty, hollow.

But of course, she doesn’t let it show. She lets out another bitter laugh and says, “Oh, good. We’re finally agreeing on something.”

They stand a couple feet apart, hopelessly staring at each other for a few seconds, both unsure what to do next. The atmosphere is tense and there’s a weighted silence pressing down on the both of them.

Dom eventually moves first. She heads over to her side of the bed, snatching her glasses off the end table before heading over to her bag to grab some clothes and her towel.

“What are you doing?” Darlene’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet, subdued. She already knows the answer but she wants to prolong the moment just a little bit longer. She doesn’t care if Dom’s pissed, or if she never forgives her. If she’s still here, occupying the same space as she is, that’s good enough for her.

_You don’t need her, you don’t need her, you don’t need her._ This isn’t a codependency. She doesn’t need her to stay.

But that’s completely different from _wanting_ her to stay.

“I’m sleeping in Jerry’s old room.” Dom’s reply is brisk. Her words wrap themselves around her, tightening until the air’s completely pushed out of her lungs. Darlene’s anxiety immediately spikes and she blurts the first thing that comes to mind.

“Stay.” Her voice cracks under the weight of the tears that well up in her large eyes. “Please.” She tries to swallow her tears but it only makes them rush back; they trickle down her cheeks as she unsuccessfully attempts to hold back a sob. “Just...stay with me.”

She usually isn’t the begging type. If someone wants to go, she’ll gladly show them the door, but Dom is different. She always was different.

This is exactly what she was trying to avoid, but she was only kidding herself. This was bound to happen. There was no other possible outcome.

Dom’s expression softens at the slightest; the change is so subtle that it’s barely noticeable, but Darlene can see it. Even when they’re on opposite ends, they can read each other so easily. The small lapse in restraint doesn’t last, however; Dom quickly shakes herself out of it and brushes past her, making a beeline for the door. “Goodnight, Darlene.”

In a latch ditch effort, she speaks up again. “Dom, please-”

Dom opens and closes the door so quietly Darlene wouldn’t have noticed her doing it if she wasn’t staring directly at her.


	4. I should not exist

Darlene doesn’t remember falling asleep, but she wakes up unbearably early the next morning with an aching head and burning eyes. The sun is barely out, and the room is bathed in the dim blue glow of pre-dawn. She pathetically lies in bed for a little while, hoping she’ll fall back asleep, but she knows it’s useless. Her mind is already swimming with snippets of the argument she and Dom had last night. It feels like there’s an invisible weight sitting on her chest, sinking inwards and threatening to splinter her ribcage and crush everything it holds inside.

But nothing hurts more than when she languidly rolls onto her side and remembers the way Dom curtly bade her goodnight before briskly leaving the room to sleep in a separate bed. Darlene flattens her palm against the side of the mattress where Dom lay just a couple nights before, and she bites her bottom lip before burying her face into the pillow next to hers. It faintly smells like her, and she feels even more pathetic when she hugs the pillow to her chest, shakily sighing into it. To make matters worse, she’s wearing one of the redhead’s shirts; she dug through her luggage after she left last night and threw on her personal favourite: The blue and white striped cotton button-up she wore on the day they separated in Boston all those months ago; it’s impossibly soft to the touch and always smells like Dom no matter how many times she wears it. She remembers the redhead telling her that she purposely packed it because she knew Darlene would want to steal it at some point during their stay here, and that only amplifies the ache.

She feels like a total idiot for missing her; Dom is literally right next door, but she might as well be in Europe again.

How is she going to get through the rest of the morning? Their cab back to New York isn’t coming until noon, so they have a few hours to kill. Are they just going to pretend they’re still happy together for Trudie’s sake? She’s no stranger to pretending, but she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to fake her way through this. Dom can’t expect her to do that, not when everything is still so raw.

The sun looks like it’s finally starting to rise because the room is gradually getting brighter and less blue. She squints at the window, groaning before rolling on her stomach. She doesn’t want to get up; in fact, she would very much prefer it if she could sink into this mattress and allow it to swallow her whole, but she should probably hop in the shower or at least start packing. Anything’s better than lying around and moping like a heartbroken teenager.

But just as she’s about to crawl out of bed, the door handle begins to jostle, and she’s frozen in place when she hears the hinges creak. She lies perfectly still, shifting her head just a little onto the side so she can see what’s going on. Through one half-open eye, she can spot the blurry outline of Dom’s silhouette moving deftly in the early morning gloom, tiptoeing towards her bag by the wall. She must’ve forgotten to grab something before she stormed out last night.

Darlene’s heart feels like it’s lodged in her throat. She’s afraid of making any slight movement just in case Dom notices she’s not really asleep, but at the same time a part of her is screaming to get up, to leap out of bed and somehow retract everything she said. It’s completely out of character for her to want to _beg_ someone to stay; the instant it feels like someone doesn’t want to be around her anymore, her first reaction is to give them the cold shoulder first so she can at least pretend that she was the one who never wanted them in the first place, but she would never be able to pull that off with Dom. She is so stupidly perceptive, especially around her. Maybe it’s because she’s an agent and she’s used to being hyperaware of her surroundings, or maybe Darlene’s a lot easier to read than she wants people to think. Maybe Dom is just the only person in the universe who bothered to figure Darlene out, and she just messed up her very last chance with her, and she’s going to spend the rest of her days alone and misunderstood.

The sound of a bag zipping up forces her to focus on the present. Darlene can see the Dom-shaped shadow rising to her feet, standing still for a few seconds before glancing over her shoulder. She immediately shuts her eye, her breathing growing shallow when she can hear her coming closer. She really wants to look, but she knows that’ll just ruin everything. Dom sighs, and judging by how loud it is, Darlene assumes she’s standing right next to her, maybe even slightly hovering over her. Is she regretting this too? Does she also wish she could take back what she said?

And then, suddenly, she feels fingers sifting through her hair, brushing it back and away from her face. Dom’s touch is slow, hesitant, cautious; she doesn’t know if she should be doing this right now. Darlene tries her best to relax; if she’s too stiff, it’ll be super obvious that she’s just pretending to be asleep, but every time she feels Dom’s hand caressing her head it sends another round of electricity through her and she can’t help but tense at the sensation. It’s only been a few hours since they last saw each other, yet Darlene’s acting like she’s been deprived of her for decades. She used to think people who lamented over lost loves were sad excuses for human beings, but now that she _is_ one of them, what exactly does that make her?

The hand on her head pauses for a moment, and Darlene swears her heartbeat pauses too. She can feel Dom’s thumb stroking the skin behind her ear, and then she feels the warmth of her lips against her temple. Dom lingers there for a second or two; her breath is warm, fanning against Darlene’s cheek, and when the redhead finally pulls away she almost shivers at the coolness of her absence.

The second she hears the door close, Darlene’s eyes snap open and she bolts upward into a sitting position, staring incredulously at the door with her eyebrows knitted together in confusion and her mouth slightly agape. What is she supposed to do now? Does she run after her? Does she barge into Jerry’s old room and demand to know what the hell that was all about?

No. She doesn’t want to drag this out any longer than it has to be, even if Dom’s sending her mixed signals. If she’s only going to bother showing up when she thinks she isn’t aware she’s around, then Darlene isn’t going to give her the satisfaction. She’ll live off coffee and energy drinks if that means she can get the upper hand - and yes, she’ll _really_ do it if she feels it’s necessary. If Dom wants to play this game, then so be it.

She’s in, and she’s going to make sure she wins.

* * *

Once it’s bright enough to be considered a proper time for getting up, Darlene trudges into the shower and forces herself to look at least halfway presentable so no one will suspect she had a shitty night. It takes her twenty minutes to mentally prepare herself to head downstairs, and when she finally does, Elliot and Dom are already in the dining room with Trudie. She spots that familiar flash of red hair and her anxiety threatens to make a comeback, but she swallows it and struts inside, taking the seat next to her brother.

“Good morning, Darlene.” Trudie pushes an empty plate in her direction. “We were actually just talking about you.”

Darlene quirks an eyebrow and quickly glances at Elliot, who merely shrugs back. She then slowly meets eyes with Dom - mostly to show dominance, not because she actually _wants_ to look at her - and when she spots the mild shock on the redhead’s expression she can’t help but smirk a little. “Were you now?” She reaches for the plate of sausages, trying her best to sound nonchalant. “I always had an inkling these two were conspiring against me.”

Dom looks downright confused, while Elliot’s awkwardly shovelling eggs into his mouth for the sake of something to do. Trudie seems completely oblivious to the mounting tension, because she laughs at Darlene’s stupid joke. “Oh, it wasn’t anything bad. Why didn’t the news say anything about you being a computer whiz too? High IQs must run in the family.”

She spares Elliot another glance, wordlessly asking for context. “W-we,” He pauses to swallow his food. “We were talking about how we weren’t looking forward to going back to work on Monday, and then we started talking about your job.”

“My job?” Darlene blinks.

“You know,” Dom pipes up; Darlene wills herself to look at her again, and she immediately reads the message she’s trying to relay to her: _I know we’re not on speaking terms right now, but just play along with it._ “The one you got recently at Steel Mountain?”

“Right.” She replies slowly as she searches her brain for the memory. She’s taken back to that cozy morning before this whole debacle, when she vaguely mentions a fake pen testing job. “Sorry - still got turkey on the brain. Uh, what about it?”

“Dom’s been telling me how well you’ve been doing there.” Trudie gushes. “I’m so happy for you - for all of you. It hasn’t been an easy year for any of us, but things are finally starting to feel normal again, and it’s even more wonderful that you two are part of the family now.” She giddily claps her hands together. “I have a feeling things are only going to get better from here!”

Darlene throws her a too-sweet grin before digging into her food. She can feel Dom staring at her, but she refuses to indulge her and puts all of her attention on her breakfast (Which tastes fucking amazing, by the way). Poor Elliot keeps shifting his eyes between the both of them, as if he’s watching a very intense game of tennis. She’ll have to tell him eventually, but she probably won’t be able to until they’re back in the city. Until then, he’s just going to have to sit in confusion.

After helping Trudie clear the table, Darlene decides to head back upstairs so she can finally start packing. Just as she grabs her duffel bag, Dom unexpectedly walks in.

“I’m just getting my stuff.” The redhead briskly states as she bends over to grab her roller bag. She looks like she’s trying very hard not to make eye contact.

“Okay.” Darlene shrugs. On the outside she looks like she doesn’t care, but on the inside she’s a hair’s width away from falling apart. To have Dom so close to her, literally standing close enough so that she can just reach out and touch her, but not being able to do so, hurts a lot more than she thought it was going to. Breakfast was one thing - it was less personal, and there were other people in the room, but here, they’re all alone. The tension in the air is practically suffocating; they both want the exact same thing - to turn around, to look each other in the eye and apologize and find a way to move past this, but of course neither of them are going to act upon it. They’re playing a game, remember? The first one to cave in loses, and Darlene is determined to come out on top.

There’s a heavy, awkward silence as the both of them rifle through their belongings with their backs turned to one another. Darlene doesn’t even realize she’s holding in her breath until she finally hears Dom zip up her bag and roll it out of the room. She finally exhales when the door closes.

Instead of unceremoniously shoving everything into her bag like she always does, she decides to take the time to carefully fold everything and neatly tuck them away for the sake of wasting time. It only kills about half an hour, and there’s about an hour left until their cab arrives. Maybe she can drag Elliot somewhere and bring him up to speed, but at the same time she’s unsure if she can bring herself to talk about it so soon. She wants to be able to brood silently by herself for a little while longer.

So she does exactly that. She belly flops onto the mattress and thinks about how this is the last time she’s ever going to step foot into this room, into this house - hell, into this entire goddamn neighbourhood, maybe this whole city, or the entire state of Pennsylvania. What other reason would she have to come back here? And Trudie - the closest thing she ever had to a good parent - she’s never going to see her again. She won’t ever get to eat Dom’s grandmother’s pecan pie again. She’ll never hear Jerry and Joseph ripping on E Corp again. She won’t get a second chance to laugh at Elliot awkwardly bonding with their kids. She never even got an opportunity to meet Dom’s father. Trudie didn’t FaceTime him like Dom said she would.

She was _this_ close to having a family - a loving, caring family who actually gives a shit about her and wants to see her succeed, but of course she goes and fucks it all up like she always does. She can never have nice things because she doesn’t know what it’s like to have them, so the one time she actually has something nice, she mishandles it.

There’s a knock on her door. “Cab’s here.” Dom’s voice is monotone, factual. Darlene can hear her footsteps fading away.

Has it already been an hour? Time flies when your heart is smashed to pieces.

She drags herself out of bed and throws her backpack on before reaching for her duffel bag. Elliot and Dom are already in the foyer; Trudie’s squeezing the life out of her brother.

“You be good now.” She kisses him on both cheeks, and Darlene snorts when his eyes comically bulge out of surprise. “The both of you.” She turns to grab Darlene by her face, kissing her as well. “Dom, you better bring these two back around for Christmas.”

“We’ll see.” Dom mutters as she extends her bag’s handle and drags it over to the front door. Darlene swallows hard before wordlessly shuffling over to follow her, and Elliot trails behind looking like he’s having a lot of difficulty processing what’s currently happening. “I’ll call you when we’re back.”

“Get home safe. I love you - I love all of you!” Trudie waves goodbye as the three of them make their way towards their cab.

They dump their luggage in the trunk and make their way inside. Darlene slips into the backseat, ensuring that she’s as close to the window as possible. Dom hastily makes her way over to the front passenger seat, leaving a stunned Elliot to hesitantly climb into the back with his sister. It’s obvious he knows that something’s wrong, but he’s smart enough to know that it isn’t the right time to ask.

The driver peels away from the curb, and Elliot waves goodbye to Trudie one last time as he buckles his seatbelt. “That went a lot smoother than I thought.” His tone is cautious, like he’s testing something.

When he’s met with a heavy silence, he frowns and leans back against his seat, looking somewhat defeated. Darlene swallows hard, but keeps her eyes trained on the passing scenery.

This is going to be a very long ride home.

* * *

An hour passes, and nothing improves. Darlene is still glaring out the window with her arms crossed, and no one has spoken since they left the house.

Elliot, clearly uncomfortable with the overwhelming amount of tension in such a small space, awkwardly clears his throat to garner attention. “Hey,” He turns to face his sister. “You know what we haven’t done in awhile?”

She sighs and decides to humour him. “What?”

“Which Would You Choose?”

Okay, she can’t _not_ smile at that. “We haven’t played that in years.”

“All the more reason to do it.” Then, because Elliot is an idiot who likes to make things worse, he leans forward to address Dom. “You should play too.”

“What?” Dom sounds like she just woke up from a nap. She could also just be pretending to sleep so she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone.

“Darlene and I used to play this game when we were bored.” Elliot explains with a grin on his stupid face. Next to him, Darlene looks like she’s trying very, _very_ hard not to open the door and shove him out of this speeding car. “You suggest two things to choose from, and everyone has to choose between them. Here, I’ll go first - Big Macs or Whoppers?”

“Big Macs, obviously.” Dom immediately responds, but she doesn’t turn around in her seat to face them.

“Oh, definitely Big Macs.” Elliot agrees. “What about you, Darlene?”

“McDick’s over Burger King any day.” She mutters, sill glowering at the window. “Okay, my turn. Blondes or brunettes?”

Elliot blinks. “What?”

Darlene doesn’t even spare him a glance. “Blondes or brunettes?” Out of the corner of her eye, she can spot Dom stiffening in her seat.

“Um.” Elliot is finally starting to look like he’s regretting his decision to bring up this game. “I don’t really have a preference.”

“C’mon, Elliot. You know that’s not part of the rules.” Darlene huffs. “Blondes or brunettes?”

He shrugs. “Blondes, I guess.”

“Interesting. Wasn’t your last girlfriend a brunette?” Darlene doesn’t know why she’s being so testy right now. Elliot doesn’t even have anything to do with the reason why she’s in such a foul mood. He doesn’t deserve to be her punching bag.

“Yeah, so?” He looks worried. “Which do you prefer?”

“Never really was into brunettes.” Darlene shrugs. “Even dirty blonde doesn’t cut it for me. It’s too close.”

She can spot Dom tense up for a split second, but then she counters with, “Cisco had brown hair.”

Okay, she kind of walked into that one, but she still has some tricks up her sleeve. “I’m willing to make exceptions if they’re _really_ special.” There’s a very audible sneer to her tone, and it’s clear both Elliot and Dom hear it.

“I guess we have one thing in common, then,” Dom shrugs, but she _still_ hasn’t turned around to look back yet. “Because brunettes never really appealed to me either.”

Darlene bristles at her words, clearly not happy with how this is backfiring. Elliot looks downright terrified, but he speaks up anyway. “Uh, so I guess the lesson to be learned here is that looks don’t really matter?”

“Did you get that from a fortune cookie?” Darlene grumbles. Elliot throws her a glance; _what the hell is going on,_ he seems to be asking her with his eyes, but she shakes her head, hoping he’ll take that as _I’ll tell you when we’re back home._

“Fun game.” Dom’s voice is irritatingly smug. “Well, you guys can keep playing. I’m gonna try and squeeze in a nap; couldn’t really sleep last night.”

There’s something about the way she sounds in that last half of her sentence that makes Darlene want to lunge over the console and strangle her, but she retains her composure, shaking her head before glaring out the window. She can feel Elliot’s eyes lingering on her, but he eventually sighs and reaches for the half-finished bag of Sour Patch Kids sitting in between them.

The more she stews in her anger, the less confident she feels. Maybe she’s got this all wrong. She can’t look at this like a game, because no matter what happens, Dom will always win. At the end of the day, she isn’t the one who murdered someone in cold blood. Dom didn’t tase someone’s pacemaker just because. She never took someone else’s life unprovoked. No matter what, Darlene will always come out as the loser, the degenerate, the terrible person Dom said she was all those months ago who deserved nothing but agony.

With this new revelation in mind, she slumps in her seat, swallowing hard as she reaches for the heart-shaped sunglasses folded over the collar of her sweater. She slides them on in a pathetic attempt to hide her watery, reddening eyes, pressing her cheek against the window and hoping the gentle rumble of the car will lull her to a deep, dreamless sleep, but all she can think about is Dom’s blood-speckled face, telling her over and over again how she’s taken everything from her and how her whole life is ruined because of the choices she made.

* * *

Dom only gives Darlene a curt parting nod when the cab drops her and Elliot off at their building later that afternoon. The siblings make their way up to Elliot’s apartment, where Darlene finally tells him what happened last night.

“I knew it.” He plops down on the foot of his bed and throws his hands up. “Once they brought up Susan during dinner, I knew it was going to happen.”

Darlene sits next to him, groaning up at the ceiling before flopping backwards on the mattress. “See, I knew it was going to go down this way. She’s pissed at me. I’m pretty sure she never wants to see me again.”

“How are you so sure of that?”

She suddenly thinks back to earlier this morning, when Dom snuck into her room when she thought she was asleep. “Okay, maybe I’m not one hundred percent sure. She’s kind of giving me mixed signals.”

“How?”

“Well, she went to sleep in a separate room after we fought.” Darlene throws an arm across her eyes. “But then she snuck in early this morning and she…” She shakes her head and groans a second time when she can feel the tears coming on. “It’s whatever. I said what I said, and she rightfully hates me for it. Can we just drop this and move on?”

“Maybe you just need to give her some time to chill out.” Elliot suggests. “I mean, you can’t expect her to just be okay with it right away. You straight up murdered someone.”

“How am I supposed to expect her to be okay with it, period? Like you said, I fucking murdered someone. I dunno about you, but that’s kind of a dealbreaker for most people.” She rubs her eyes with her knuckles. “And I’m not sure if you know this, but she’s a fucking FBI agent. She upholds the law for a living. Murder is the worst crime of them all.”

“Okay, fair.” Elliot rubs the back of his head. “Shit. There really isn’t a way around this, is there? She’s probably gonna ask me if I knew all along.”

Darlene draws her hands away from her face so she can glance up at him. “And what are you gonna say?”

“I’m gonna tell her the truth.” He shrugs. “If she hates me for it, I can’t really blame her, but she has to understand where I’m coming from too. She already knows I’ve covered for you on a lot of other stuff, anyway. This won’t be much different.”

“Good to know that you’ll still be besties once this is all over.” Darlene rolls on her stomach and groans into the mattress. “This is the one thing I didn’t want to fuck up - the _one_ thing.”

“I’m telling you to give it time.” She can feel the mattress shift slightly as Elliot rises to his feet. “I have a feeling Dom’s view of the world isn’t as black and white as you think it is. You even said it yourself - she was giving you mixed signals this morning, right? So that has to mean she’s at least thinking about it.”

She snorts. “Yeah - she’s probably trying to figure out whether she should advocate for the death penalty or life in prison with no chance of parole.”

“I dunno, I think you have to take some sort of comfort in the grey area if you want to work for the FBI.” She hears Elliot stepping away from the bed, but she doesn’t bother to roll over to see where he’s going. “And if she hasn’t already been okay with the grey area before, I’m sure the shit we’ve been through this past year got her used to it, at the very least.”

“Stop trying to be the optimist. It’s not working.” Darlene sighs and finally sits up, scooting to the edge of the bed and burying her face in her hands. “I just have to suck it up and find a way to move past this. It’s the only thing I want to focus on right now, okay?”

Elliot sits next to her again and sighs in defeat. “Alright.”

She leans against him, tilting her head so that it touches his shoulder. She closes her eyes and bites her bottom lip as the tears threaten to make a comeback, and she wraps her arms around herself. “I need to take my mind off of this. Can we just, I dunno, get baked or something, and watch shitty movies for the rest of the day?”

She can feel Elliot press his cheek against her head, and it alleviates some of the pain echoing inside of her. “Sure. Whatever you want.” He wraps an arm around her and reassuringly grips her shoulder. “Why don’t we pick up Flipper first and take her out for a walk? Maybe the fresh air will do you some good.”

That actually sounds like a better idea. “Okay.”

* * *

The rest of the weekend is a hazy blur. She spends all of Saturday and Sunday moping in bed, buried beneath the sheets with the curtains drawn. Elliot tries to get her to get out and do things with him - more walks with Flipper, movies and weed, and he even tried enticing her out of her apartment once by offering to let her hack into some of his coworkers’ social media profiles so she can judge their personal lives - but none of his attempts are successful.

Her argument with Dom and the incident that happened the morning after replay themselves in an endless loop inside her head. What does it all mean? Why did she make such a clear indication that she wanted absolutely nothing to do with her anymore, only for her to sneak into her room the next morning and…do what she did? Darlene can still feel her hand in her hair, she can still feel her lips pressed against her skin - she can close her eyes and picture all of it with such clarity that it could have happened just a few seconds ago. None of it makes any sense and the more she thinks about it, the harder she tries to find an answer to it, the louder the ache in her chest gets.

The week drags on. Elliot continues to check in every now and then, but by Wednesday he finally gets the hint that she doesn’t need him breathing down her neck, so he backs off a bit and only sends her a single text in the morning before he leaves for work. Getting through the day isn’t so bad; she passes the time with Flipper, roaming around the city and indulging in every little distraction that stumbles in her path. It’s only when the sun comes down and everything closes up for the night that things get really difficult. She could always just hang out with Elliot if she really wanted to, and she knows he wouldn’t mind, but a part of her doesn’t want to be a bother. She’s already hassled him enough with this, and for all she knows Dom’s probably coming to him for comfort too, and she doesn’t want to pressure him into taking sides. He has the right to remain friends with her; he isn’t the one who lied to her about murdering someone. Their relationship doesn’t have to end just because the one she had with Dom didn’t work out.

So she sits in her dark, quiet apartment, figuring out what to do with herself until the sun comes up and she’s able to steal Flipper away for another spontaneous adventure. Sleep eludes her; every time she closes her eyes, all she can think about is that last morning in Philly, and if she lets the memory play on for too long everything starts to hurt again, so she tries to avoid it as much as possible. She buys shitty instant coffee from the corner store and pours herself a cup every hour so she won’t nod off. She tries to find movies, TV shows, and even documentaries that she thinks might be able to hold her attention for more than a few minutes just so she can have something she can focus on that isn’t Dom-related. She even made an impromptu trip to the library to see if there are any books that might pique her interest, but when she discovers that reading in the middle of the night makes her sleepy, she returns everything. She eventually resorts to reading the postcards Dom wrote for her, the ones she keeps stashed away in her nightstand whenever she needs a pick-me-up. It hurts reading through them, and it hurts knowing Dom wrote these because she wished she was there with her when she was overseas, but at this point it’s pretty safe to say that she’s been feeling masochistic lately, so it’s fitting.

There’s a small, nagging part of her that’s tempting her to fall back into old habits. Maybe she’s going about this the wrong way. Maybe there isn’t a way to make the pain go away completely, and that the next best thing is to just numb it. Maybe she should just go to a bar and drink until she throws up bile. Maybe she should crash a random party and snort or pop something until her eyes roll back permanently. Maybe she can find someone who can take take her place.

Maybe.

That small part of her gradually begins to grow as the days crawl by, and it becomes harder and harder to ignore when Darlene begins to run out of things to do to keep her distracted throughout the night. At first it was simply a matter of discipline and telling herself that she isn’t that person anymore, that she doesn’t need to get fucked up to get over the pain, but then she thinks about it some more and realizes that it may not necessarily be true. Who is she to say that she truly isn’t that person anymore? If she really isn’t, then why is she having these thoughts in the first place? Surely she wouldn’t be contemplating them if that old part of her was really dead and gone. What if she never really grew and evolved as a person, and the ugliest parts of her never went away, and they were actually just patiently lurking in the dark somewhere, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to come out and make a grand reappearance? What if that perfect opportunity was right here, right now?

She knows she shouldn’t give in. Giving in would only prove herself right. If she went out and got fucked up right now, she really never improved after all.

But at the same time, would it really matter? Who is she trying to impress? What reason is there to even strive to be better when the person most important to her doesn’t even want her _breathing_ in the same space as her?

She can already hear Ben gently clicking his tongue with gentle disapproval. _You shouldn’t want to get better for someone else,_ He would say. _You should want to get better for you._

It’s true, but what’s the point in becoming better if there isn’t anyone to share it with?

 _Elliot’s here._ Imaginary Ben replies in that annoying matter-of-fact voice of his. _He wants to see you succeed. He’s proud of everything you’ve accomplished so far. Why squander all of that now?_

Because Elliot’s different, duh. He’s always going to be there no matter what. Of course she wants to be better for him, and she’s going to continue to do that - it’s just that…well, it would’ve been really nice if Dom was here too. She really thought she was going to stay.

Imaginary Ben crosses his legs and scribbles something into his stupid clipboard. _Well, maybe you shouldn’t have murdered Susan Jacobs for no particular reason._

There was a reason.

_Was it enough to justify killing her?_

No.

_So why are we having this conversation?_

“It’s not even a real fucking conversation.” Darlene suddenly blurts out, bolting upright in her bed and burying her face in her hands. Holy shit, she’s arguing with a mental projection of her fucking therapist. She’s totally losing it.

Fuck it. If nothing is going to make sense, she might as well do whatever the hell she wants.

She reaches for her phone and skims through her contacts, stopping on a name she vaguely remembers from her fsociety days. She knows there are pockets of followers that are still doing their thing, just to a lesser extent - which must mean someone out there still throws pretty awesome parties. She sends them a quick text, and they reply almost immediately with a time, password, and address. A smirk stretches across her lips as she leaps out of bed and heads for the closet.

It’s been three weeks since everything went to shit. She deserves to live a little.

* * *

It’s nearly midnight by the time Darlene reaches her destination. It’s the basement of an old warehouse in a seedy part of the city, which is pretty much what she was expecting from an fsociety remnant. There’s a guy whose face is partially hidden by a hat and a hoodie standing by the back doors smoking a cigarette; she utters the password, and he gives her a single nod before letting her inside.

The second she’s in, her ears are pummelled with heart pounding EDM. The bass is rumbling in her chest as she descends the steps, and the narrow hallway is lit up with a bright green glow, presumably from the strobe lights. As the music gets louder and the lights get brighter, she can feel her pulse picking up, and her conscience kicks in, but it no longer sounds like Ben. It actually sounds more like Cisco this time, and she has no idea why.

_Why the hell are you here? What the fuck are you doing? What are you going to accomplish from this?_

She shoves those thoughts to the side when she finally reaches the party. There are rows of desks and they’re filled with people hunched over various monitors. Endless wires snake in and out; she’s assuming they’re stealing power and internet from the factory above them. On the far left is a makeshift dance floor and a bar. The place is teeming with people; if they’re not hacking something or someone, they’re either jumping along to the music or grabbing a drink. The only light source - aside from the monitors of course - is from the DJ booth; endless rods of green strobe lights feel their way around the dark room, briefly illuminating faces she doesn’t recognize.

The unmistakable sound of someone snorting something catches her attention; a guy sitting at one of the monitors just inhaled a line of…whatever the hell that is. It could be anything. She’d like to know what it is, and there’s only one way to find out.

 _Hold up,_ Conscience Cisco warns her. _Don’t do this._

Why not?

_I get that you’re hurting right now, but this isn’t going to help you._

Who said anything about _helping?_ She just wants to forget, even if it’s for a little while.

 _Forgetting might be nice in the moment, but you’re going to remember eventually, and then you’re just gonna want to forget again. You’ll be caught in a cycle that you_ just _broke out of._

It’s _one_ night. What difference would this make?

_All it takes is just one night. C’mon, Darlene. You know this. Don’t fuck this up even more than you already did. Maybe you can still fix things._

“Shut up.” Darlene clutches fistfuls of her hair and clamps her eyes closed. “Shut up, shut up.” She takes a deep breath and pushes her way through the crowd towards the bar, where she orders a double of bourbon. She smoothly gulps it down before asking for another.

 _What the hell do you think you’re doing?_ Conscience Cisco laughs out of disbelief. _What, did you think getting drunk was some kind of compromise? Just because it’s_ slightly _less fucked up than snorting pills doesn’t mean you’re off the hook._

She swallows another double of bourbon in one go. “Keep ‘em coming.” She eagerly slaps her hand against the counter, grinning when the bartender - who looks way too young to be serving drinks, by the way - gives her a thumbs up and reaches for another red plastic cup. A few more of these and maybe that shit stain at the back of her head will finally shut the hell up.

_Don’t do this, Darlene. You know this isn’t what she would want you to do._

Who fucking cares what _she_ wants? She’s not here, is she?

_That’s not the point._

“Hey.” An unfamiliar voice cuts through the noise in the room and the noise in her head. There’s a guy leaning against the bar next to her with a bottle of beer in his hand. He’s tall, with dark wavy hair sitting on the top of his head in a neat undercut, and a cleanly trimmed beard. He looks like he belongs at a sports bar with his frat buddies instead of an underground hacker party. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

Darlene scoffs, keeping her body angled towards the bar. “Do you use that on all the girls?”

“Whoa.” He laughs, leaning back a bit and holding up his free hand in surrender. “I’m not hitting on you or anything. I’m genuinely asking if I know you. You look familiar.”

She shrugs. “I just have one of those faces, I guess.” She knocks her head back as she finishes another double, slamming the cup on the counter before ordering another.

The guy lets out a low whistle. “You don’t mess around. Rough night?”

She doesn’t even know why she’s indulging him. The last thing she wants right now is to converse with a total stranger. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Wanna talk about it?” He shifts so that he’s still leaning against the counter, but his body is fully facing her now. She glances at him out of the corner of her eye; there’s a smile stretched wide across his lips. “My friends tell me I’m a good listener.”

He looks…easy, if that makes any sense. Maybe he’s just what she needs.

 _No he fucking isn’t,_ Conscience Cisco barges in once more. _Be honest with yourself. What’s going to come out of this? You fuck him, you leave him in the morning, and when you’re feeling lonely you’re just gonna call him up and fuck him again, and then you’ll run away until the loneliness comes back. You_ always _fucking do this, Darlene._

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

“You don’t wanna hear it.” She clears her throat as the bartender refills her cup with another double. “It’s a long story.”

“I got time.” His smile somehow gets even wider. “We can go someplace quieter if that helps. This place isn’t really my scene, to be honest.”

That last bit immediately piques her interest. “Then why are you here?”

“A buddy of mine is into this kind of stuff.” He takes a swig of his drink. “He’s into all that nerd shit - likes tinkering around with computers and he’s real good with numbers, that sorta thing. Told me that he knew about some party happening tonight and asked if I wanted to tag along, so I said yes…and here we are.” He raises his arm, gesturing to the hoard of dancing bodies just a few feet away from them, smiling sheepishly. “He said he was gonna say hi to a few friends so he just left me here. It’s been almost twenty minutes and I haven’t seen him. I think he forgot about me.”

She laughs humourlessly, exhaling sharply through her nose. “Some friend of yours.” She rolls her wrist, watching the liquor inside of her cup swirl around. “I’m guessing all of this _nerd shit_ isn’t your cup of tea?”

“Nah. Put me in front of a Patriots game with some hot wings and I’ll be right as rain.” He grins, and she resists the urge to roll her eyes. “This is nice, though. It’s a reminder that things are finally back to normal after all the crap that went down last year. There was a point where I really thought the world was gonna end. Scary stuff, but we got through it somehow. It’s good to be alive.”

She almost wants to tell him that she was part of the reason why the world was close to imploding, but she swallows it with the rest of her bourbon. “A part of me kinda wishes it did end.” She orders another double.

“Why?”

“Because maybe it would’ve been better if things, I dunno, just…stopped.” She shrugs. She can feel the alcohol kicking in; it’s warm, numb, and the best part about it is that it’s keeping Conscience Cisco away. “Yeah, sure, we got out of the hellhole that was last year, but who’s to say it won’t happen again? For all we know, something even worse is coming, and we’ll be even less prepared. Everything would’ve been better if shit just ended because we wouldn’t have to be afraid of anything anymore. We wouldn’t have to be under anyone’s control. We wouldn’t have to work, or worry about money, or any of that shit. We can finally just…stop.”

She half-turns her head to look at him, and she almost wants to laugh at the shock on his face. “Wow.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “I take it you’re a half glass empty kinda gal.”

“What gave it away?” She smirks, and when he laughs again she takes a sip of bourbon.

“Look, I don’t know your story or anything, and you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, but I just want to say that whatever it is that’s bothering you right now, it’ll pass.” He pauses to take a drink. “It’ll all work out, trust me.”

Darlene actually rolls her eyes this time. “Thanks for the horoscope.”

He throws her another grin; it’s toothy and boyish. “Let me guess - Aries.”

She snorts. “Nope. Scorpio.”

“Ah, that makes total sense.” He nods slowly, his brows raised and his bottom lip slightly jutting outwards.

She quirks an eyebrow. “Does it?”

“Hell no.” He bellows with laughter. “I have no fucking idea what the difference is.”

Shit, he’s actually nice to be around.

_Exactly, so don’t fucking do this._

Wait, when did _you_ come back?

_I was always here, asswipe. Stop this right now and go the fuck home. Don’t break this guy’s heart just because yours is broken too. You can still back out of this._

Fuck off.

_Remember what happened the last time you took advantage of someone for your own personal gain? It didn’t end so well, did it?_

That’s different. It’s not going to end up like last time.

 _Why, because he doesn’t know his way around a terminal and he cares too much about passer ratings and completion percentages to realize your face was all over the news for a good few months at the beginning of the year? How does that make this different? If anything, it’s worse, because he has absolutely_ no _fucking idea what you’re luring him into. Did you think you were just gonna be able to drop him when you no longer had any use for him? You find a new favourite toy to play with, but you instantly forget about it when something newer and shinier comes along, and then when something even_ newer _and_ shinier _comes your way you forget that too. It’s this never ending fucking cycle and it’s goddamn tiring as shit. You’ve reduced people - actual fucking human beings with actual fucking feelings - to just things, inanimate objects you use whenever it’s most convenient for you._

Where the fuck did all of that come from?

“So, are you here with someone?” His deep voice pulls her back to the present. “Were you forsaken just like I was?”

“Nope.” She smirks again. “I’m here on my own free will.”

His eyes go comically wide. “Wait, really?”

“Mmhmm.” She hums as she raises her cup to her lips. “Believe it or not, I’m into that nerd shit.”

He gapes at her. “No way. You’re a nerd?”

Darlene hunches over the bar as she laughs. “What, were you expecting Trinity or something?”

“Who?”

“Oh my God.” She laughs again out of disbelief. “Neo? Morpheus? Red pill, blue pill?” He shakes his head, and she tuts with mock disapproval. “Wow. Okay. You really don’t belong here.”

“Harsh.” He leans back a bit, pretending to be offended, but he’s still smiling. “Well, if I don’t belong here, maybe I should go someplace else. Have you given my previous offer any thought?”

_Don’t do it, Darlene. Don’t you fucking do it._

She smiles back. “Where would we even go?”

_Don’t lead him on like this, Darlene. What the fuck are you doing?_

“We can go anywhere you want.” He finishes the rest of his beer and places it on the counter before sticking out his hand. “Shit, we’ve been talking for _how_ long now, and I didn’t even bother to introduce myself. I’m Dom, by the way.”

And suddenly it’s like someone pressed the mute button on the remote. The entire floor falls silent. She can’t even feel the bass thumping inside of her anymore. All around her people are talking, laughing, shouting, singing, but she can’t hear any of them.

He retracts his hand. His expression is slightly confused. “Hey, are you alright? Did I say something?”

She shakes her head and leans in a little closer. “Sorry. Spaced out for a second. What were you saying?”

His expression immediately relaxes. “That’s okay. I said we could go anywhere you want.”

“No, I got that part. You said something else after.”

“Oh, my bad.” He laughs sheepishly. “I said my name was Tom.”

Her chest decompresses, but something still feels horribly off. Now she isn’t sure what his name _actually_ is. She could have misheard him the first time, or she could have misheard him the second time. Hell, she could have misheard him _both_ times and his name might not even be Dom or Tom. Maybe she’s just drunk. Maybe she really is losing it.

_Don’t. Do. This._

She throws him a smirk before downing the rest of her drink.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”


	5. Hoping I could fix it

“How far did you fucking park?” Darlene mutters as she wraps her arms around herself; it's so cold out that it almost feels like it's knocking the drunkenness out of her. They’re walking away from the warehouse down an empty street and there isn’t a single car in sight. “Are you just dragging me to a secluded alleyway so you could murder me and dump my remains in the trash?”

“Wow.” Dom or Tom or Whatever the Hell His Name Is laughs as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Do you always assume the worst of everything?”

That’s a valid question and she hates that he’s asking it. “Seriously, dude - where the fuck is your car?”

“Relax, it’s just around the corner.” He pulls out his keys and presses a button on his remote; in the near distance, there’s a honk and a flash. “There were way more people here earlier, and that was the closest spot I could find.”

“Whatever.” She turns the collar of her jacket up and glares at his shoulder blades as she follows him down the cracked sidewalk. The voice in her head that suspiciously sounds like Cisco hasn’t said anything since they left the party, but she’s not sure if that’s better, because now she can’t stop thinking about the ‘conversation’ they had earlier by the bar. Okay, so maybe she is just using this dude, and _okay,_ maybe she did have plans to just ditch him the morning after, and _okay…_ maybe she’s just falling back into familiar patterns of terrible behaviour because it’s easier to believe she’s never going to change and she’s destined to be the same worthless piece of shit for the rest of her miserable life - but why does that even matter? If she wants to screw things up for herself, she has every right to. Neither Dom or Elliot have any say on what she can and can’t do. She’s a grown ass adult. She can take responsibility for herself. She knows exactly what she’s getting into and she can fully admit that it’s probably not the best thing for her right now, but whatever. It doesn’t matter. None of this fucking matters anymore.

Right?

Dom or Tom turns on his heel, making a sudden right turn. Darlene hastily follows him, and when she spots the huge, shiny black pickup truck - because of course it’s a fucking truck - parked by the curb, she sighs with relief. “Finally. I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

He jogs over to the passenger side and pulls the door open for her, grinning as he holds out a hand. “Ladies first.”

She rolls her eyes and ignores his hand, placing one foot on the step bar and hoisting herself up before clambering inside, but she nearly stumbles back when she spots an overstuffed backpack and a pile of papers occupying the seat in front of her. “Uh…”

“Oh, shit.” He clumsily half-circles the truck and climbs into the drivers’ seat, reaching over the console so he can grab everything and toss them in the back. “My bad. I wasn’t expecting guests.”

She finally settles into the passenger’s seat, twisting her torso so she can reach for the seatbelt. It smells like lemons in here. “What was all of that, anyway?”

“Notes.” He sticks his key into the ignition. “Got a paper due next week.” 

“Wait, what?” She gawks at him. “You’re in school?”

“You got it.” He shrugs as the engine roars to life. “Pro tip: Don’t do grad school. It sucks ass.”

This new bit of information is making her feel extremely guilty for what she’s about to do. “Didn’t strike me as the grad school type.”

“Oh yeah?” He laughs as he wheels away from the curb and back onto the street. “Alright, three guesses on what you think I’m in grad school for.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Where are we going?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t care.” She crosses her arms. “Just…away, I guess.”

There’s a brief pause. He flips the turn signal as he approaches a stop sign. “We can head back to my place, if you want.”

Every cell in her body is screaming to say no. “That’s cool with me.”

He taps a finger against the steering wheel. “Cool.” After rolling past the intersection, he switches the stereo on, and suddenly the truck is booming with Florida Georgia Line. “So, any guesses on what I’m in school for?”

She keeps her eyes trained on the window. She’s not even sure if she wants to do this anymore. Did she ever really want to do it in the first place? “Not really.”

“C’mon, I’m sure you have _something.”_

Is she really going to just ruin this guy’s life because she’s desperate to fill an empty, gaping void in herself that’ll probably never close? “Some kind of business school? You look like a yuppie in training.”

He lets out another hearty laugh. “Nice one, but no.” He flips the turn signal again and passes a silver sedan. “Alright, two more guesses.”

She sighs. Playing this game with him is only humanizing him even more, which is making it a lot more difficult for her to separate herself from the situation. She can’t fall back into old patterns if she knows she’s taking advantage of someone who actually appears to be a good person - then again, Dom was a good person. She _is_ a good person. Look what she ended up doing to her. “Are you trying to get into med school or something?”

“Are you kidding?” He chuckles. “My buddy bent his finger backwards at a pickup basketball game the other day and I almost fainted when I saw it. There’s no way I’d ever be a doctor.” He makes a left turn. “Last try - better make it count.”

“Okay…” She trails off, feeling even less motivated than ever. She briefly wonders how many bones she’d break if she opened this door and rolled out right now. “Fuck, man, I don’t know.”

“Just one more guess.” He insists with that stupid grin on his face, and she groans. There’s something very boy scout-like about him, and it’s only prompting her to think about _her_ and how much she wishes it was _her_ driving this douchey truck, listening to shitty music, trying to make her laugh with stupid, pointless rapport. The whole point of going home with this guy was so she could forget about Dom, but now she’s all she can think about. In fact, Dom’s really been the only thing on her mind way before she even decided to go to that dumb party. She knew what she wanted this whole time and she tried so hard to pretend she didn’t, but even she knows there’s a point where she’s just so deep in denial that it becomes downright pathetic. She can’t lie to herself anymore.

“Ugh.” Darlene thumps her head against the backrest and squeezes her eyes shut. “I can’t do this.”

“Huh?” He briefly takes his eyes off the road so he can gawk at her. “Wait, did I sa-”

“No, Jesus.” She vehemently shakes her head. “You didn’t say anything, okay? This is my fault.”She places a hand on the door handle. “Just…stop and drop me off here.”

“No, wait.” He turns down the music. “I said that we could talk about it if you wanted to. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

She lets out a dark chuckle and lolls her head to the side so that she’s staring out the window again. “Are you taking psychology?”

He scrunches his brow. “What?”

“School.”

“Oh.” He blinks. “No, that’s not it.” He finally slows down and pulls over by the sidewalk, but he doesn’t unlock the door. “It’s urban planning, actually.”

She knows she could just unlock the door herself, but for some reason she doesn’t want to right now. “Why?”

“It’s just my way of giving back, I guess.” He shrugs. “I did my undergrad in architecture. I want to build a place where the homeless and other disadvantaged people can get help and the resources needed to re-integrate themselves into society. It’ll have stuff like a computer lab, a food bank, a gym - sort of like a community centre, but for people who can’t afford the programs. The plan is to do a test in one neighbourhood first, and if it’s successful, branch out to other neighbourhoods. I want to have at least one place in each borough.” He laughs, clearly a little embarrassed. “It’s a lofty idea, I know. My friends rip on me all the time. They keep telling me I shoulda went to school for accounting or IT instead.”

“Goddammit.” She throws her head back against the seat again.

He looks genuinely terrified this time. “What did I do now?”

“Holy shit - you didn’t _do_ anything. I told you already.” Darlene growls out of frustration as she buries her face in her hands. “Okay, full disclosure: If you were thinking there was going to be anything more out of this, you’re wrong.”

He frowns, and the confusion in his face is only making her feel even worse. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s there to _not_ understand? You were supposed to be a drunken mistake and nothing else. Now you’re telling me shit about how you’re going to school so you can save the homeless, and…fuck!” She slams her fist against her thigh out of frustration.

He jumps a little at her sudden outburst, but his tone is calm and even. “So let me get this straight - this was only supposed to be a one night stand?”

Darlene groans again. “Yeah, but I can’t do that to you. You don’t deserve that.”

“You sound like you’re trying to run away from something.” He shifts around in his seat; it’s almost like he knows this is going to be a long conversation, so he’s making himself comfortable for it. “Did you think you were gonna be able to use me to forget about whatever it is you’re running away from?”

She rolls her eyes. “Are you sure you’re not in grad school for psychology?”

“I minored in it when I was doing my undergrad, if that counts for anything.”

“Of course you fucking did.” She sighs. “Look, you don’t want to be around someone like me. You’re…you’re a good person - at least that’s the vibe I’m getting from the very little information I have on you. If you stick around people like me, you’re going nowhere worthwhile. People like me drag people like you into the fucking tar pit so you can sink with them. People like me…” She sucks in a breath; she can feel the tears coming on, and she sure as hell does not want to break down in front of a complete stranger right now. “We ruin good people like you. Don’t let me do that to you. Please.”

He’s silent for a little while. His brow is scrunched and he’s frowning; she’s not sure if he’s upset or if he’s thinking really hard about something. It feels like ages have passed when he finally speaks up again. “Why do you think you’d ruin me? You don’t seem as bad as you’re making yourself out to be.”

She laughs. “Trust me, if you knew me - like, _really_ knew me, you’d have a very different opinion.” Her eyes drop to her lap. “I…knew someone like you. She was good. She only wanted to help people, make this world a better place, or whatever. She always tried to do the right thing, and…” She clamps her eyes shut again. “She trusted me, which was a big fucking mistake, and she knew it was, but she did it anyway because she thought that, I dunno - maybe she thought I’d change for the better if someone just gave me a chance. It worked for a little while, but then I fucked it up like I always do, and I feel like shit for it. She gave me a chance and I blew it because that’s just who I am: I self-sabotage because I don’t know what the fuck to do when something that’s actually good for me comes along.”

He’s nodding again as he drinks in her words. It’s very Ben-like behaviour. “Is there anything you can do to fix it?”

“Nope.” She shakes her head. “I’m pretty sure it’s broken beyond repair at this point.”

“Have you at least tried?”

“Why?” She shrugs. “There’s no point. She doesn’t want to speak to me. It’s done. Might as well suck it up and try to forget about it.”

He strokes his beard with one hand. “No offence, but it doesn’t look like you’re gonna forget anytime soon.”

Darlene rolls her eyes again. “You think?”

“This person sounds really important to you.” Does he have a thing for pointing out the obvious? “Why are you giving up now? It doesn’t even look like you tried to fix things yet. If she means that much to you, why not put in the effort?”

“Because I know her, that’s why. When she sets her mind on something, it’s impossible to change it. She’s never going to forgive me and that’s that.” She sighs and unlocks her door, hooking her fingers around the handle. “Look, it’s probably for the best if you just forgot about me and everything that happened tonight. Work on your paper and build your homeless sanctuary or whatever.”

Just as she’s about to open the door, he calls out to her. “Wait.” She glances over her shoulder to address him; he’s giving her those stupid puppy dog eyes and she almost wants to punch him in the face just so he could stop looking at her like that.

“What?”

He rakes his fingers through his thick hair and Darlene immediately thinks about how Dom always does that when she’s nervous, which is pretty much all the fucking time, and how it’s one of her favourite things about her; she has to suck in another breath to keep her chest from collapsing inwards. “I just want to say that if this person really means something to you, you shouldn’t go down without a fight. I don’t think they’d want you to give up on them that easily.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “They clearly gave up on me, so why should I return the favour?”

“Because relationships aren’t about returning favours.” He shrugs. “We don’t do good things for the people we care about just because we’re expecting something in return. We do good things for them because...well, we care about them. We want to see them happy, and we want them to succeed in everything they do.”

She tries not to think about how familiar that sounds. “She’ll only be happy if I remove myself from the picture.”

“Did she actually say that?”

His words trigger the memory of that morning when Dom kissed her when she thought she was asleep, and her chest painfully contrasts. “No, but she made it pretty clear that she feels that way.”

“How?”

She lets out another frustrated growl. “Why the hell does it matter to you, anyway? Who fucking cares - I fucked up, and she never wants to see me again. That’s it. End of fucking story.”

“I dunno.” He’s messing with his beard again. “I still think you should try. You obviously still care about her - you wouldn’t be this messed up if you didn’t. Even if she doesn’t end up forgiving you in the end, don’t you think you owe it to yourself to get some closure to this? You don’t want to spend the rest of your life thinking about what could’ve happened, do you?”

He needs to stop being right. “I don’t think I deserve anything, not after what I’ve done.”

“Nah, you do.” He smiles, and it’s annoying the hell out of her for some reason. “I get it - there’s always a risk of adding onto the hurt you’re already feeling right now, but even if that does end up happening, I think you’ll be okay no matter what. At least you’ll know the truth, and when you know the truth you’ll be able to figure out where to go next. If you don’t, you’ll be stuck wondering forever. The wound will never close. I know you don’t want that.”

“You don’t know shit about me or what I want.” She scowls at him, but he doesn’t waver.

“Maybe not, but I’m pretty confident that I’m right.” He really needs to wipe that stupid smile off his face. “Just think about it, okay? That’s all I’m asking.”

Darlene sighs. “Why are you being so nice to me? Shouldn’t you be texting your bros about how you’ve been cockblocked by this crazy bitch’s personal problems?”

He laughs. “Hasn’t anyone told you that a little kindness goes a long way? I’m just trying to do my part in making the world a bit brighter. Shit’s already crazy out there; we don’t need more of it.”

“Whatever.” She finally pushes the door open and swings her legs over so she can jump out.

He leans over the console. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off anywhere? It’s the middle of the night.”

“I’m good, thanks.” She grunts as she hops out of the truck. She smooths out her pants with her hands before whirling around to face him one last time. “I think I need to walk this off - y’know, give myself some time to...think about it. Plus, I don’t want you to know where I live. What if you’re some crazy stalker who leaves dead animals by my doorstep?”

His dark eyes widen slightly when he realizes that she’s actually taking his advice seriously, and he laughs again. “Hey, that’s _two_ murder jokes in one night.”

She smirks. “No. It’s one murder joke and one stalker joke. There’s a difference.” She pulls the hood of her jacket over her head. “Anyways...thanks, I guess. I think I can take it from here.”

“Don’t mention it…” He trails off and furrows his brow. “Uh, I don’t think I’ve actually gotten your name yet.”

She glances up at him with a small smile. “It’s Darlene.”

“Darlene?” He blinks. “That sounds _so_ familiar. We’ve definitely met before.”

“Maybe.” She slips her hands in her pockets and starts walking. When she’s a few feet ahead of the truck, she hears him shout out to her:

“I hope things work out with you and your friend! Get home safe!”

She peeks over her shoulder just as the truck roars back to life. He gives her a small wave as he drives past her, and then he makes a right turn and disappears into the night.

Well, that definitely didn’t go as planned, and she’s kind of angry that he instilled a little bit of hope in her because the last thing she needs is false confidence, but she’s pretty certain that she knows what she needs to do now, and at this point she really doesn’t have anything to lose so she might as well fucking do it.

She briskly walks down the street and descends the steps into the subway.

* * *

Darlene doesn’t bother checking the time when she finally reaches Dom’s building. All she knows for sure is that it’s late as hell, and Dom’s going to be even more pissed with her than she already is, but whatever. She needs to do this now while she’s still motivated and somewhat hopeful.

She skips up the steps two at a time, huffing as she scurries towards the end of the hall. She doesn’t even hesitate when she finally stops at Dom’s door, raising a fist and banging on it as loud as she possibly can.

“Dom,” She shouts. “Wake the fuck up. I know you’re in there. We need to talk.”

Her knuckles are red and raw by the time Dom finally opens her door. Her hair is sticking up and out in every discernible direction, her shirt is riding up her stomach, and her glasses are slightly askew, but Darlene almost wants to cry when she finally lays eyes on her for the first time in three weeks. She’s so tempted to just step into her, to throw her arms around her and bury her face into her shirt and breathe her in, but she knows she can’t do that, and it’s very possible that she may not be able to do it ever again.

“Darlene,” Dom groans as she slides one hand beneath her glasses to rub at her eye. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s two in the goddamn morning. Are you drunk? Did you take something?”

Darlene brushes past her and lets herself in. “I said we need to talk.”

“Can’t we do this later?” Dom doesn’t try to physically kick her out, which is a good sign - or maybe she’s just too tired to do it.

“No, I think we’ve waited long enough.” She swallows hard. “Look, I just need you to listen, okay? Just listen to what I have to say, and when I’m done you can do whatever the fuck you want. You can hate me forever. You can kick me out and tell me you never want to see me again. I really don’t give a shit anymore. I just need you to listen to me this one time.”

She watches Dom shuffle over to the side of her bed, crawling in and pressing her back against the headboard for a moment before burying her face in her hands. “What is it?”

Darlene steps closer, stopping by the foot of Dom’s bed. She takes in a deep breath and closes her eyes for a moment, then reopens them as she exhales. She locks eyes with Dom, who’s staring back with sleepy confusion.

“I’ve done a lot of fucked up things in my life - like, _a lot,_ and I should’ve been more honest with you about them. I killed Susan Jacobs and there isn’t a way to sugarcoat it. She came home one night when she wasn’t supposed to and things just spiralled out of control.” She sucks in another breath as if to prepare herself. “We kept her tied up so she wouldn’t go anywhere. What I did to her was fucked up - _really_ fucked up, and I take full responsibility for that.”

“It was completely unprovoked and you didn’t even give her a chance to defend herself. It’s more than just fucked up, Darlene - it’s downright despicable. There’s nothing humane about any of this.” The disdain dripping from Dom’s tone is venomous and it stings like hell, but that’s to be expected. She deserves this, after all.

“I wish I could tell you why I did it. You don’t know how badly I wish I knew the fucking answer, Dom, but I don’t.” Darlene’s voice begins to waver as the tears rush to her eyes. “But you know what the worst part is?”

“How the hell can it get any worse than this?” Dom sounds weary, jaded.

“I thought I’d regret it. I thought I’d be afraid of what would happen if someone found out. I thought I’d feel bad about it.” Darlene shakes her head, laughing bitterly. “But I didn’t feel anything at all. I felt nothing, absolutely fucking nothing - and you know what? I _still_ don’t feel anything, and that scares the shit out of me. I should be feeling something, right? Even if I was fucking rejoicing, I think I’d be okay with it, because at least I know it’s affecting me in some way, but every time I think about what I did I just feel...empty, and for some reason that’s worse than feeling anything at all.”

“You should’ve told me the night Cisco died.” She can see Dom glowering at her even though it’s pretty dark in here, and it’s ebbing away at her confidence. “You should’ve told me all of this.”

“Yeah, I should have.” Darlene agrees, though her tone is laced with sarcasm. “You could’ve thrown my ass in jail - or better yet, put me to sleep like some kind of misbehaved stray, and things could’ve ended right then and there.”

Dom shakes her head. “That’s not what I-”

“Do you ever think about how much better things could have been if we never met?” Darlene laughs again, though it’s even colder and darker than before. “Fuck, you know - when Elliot was in the hospital, he told me about this really weird dream he had where his life was pretty much perfect and everything turned out exactly the way they should’ve been. Our parents weren’t assholes, Angela never died, Whiterose wasn’t a goddamn lunatic, the Dark Army never existed.” She swallows, stepping back a bit and shaking her head. “He never had to put up with shit like E Corp or fsociety. He was happy, he had friends, he was doing really well at his job - but he said that he would never want to live like that.”

“Why not?”

Darlene chokes on a sob and swiftly raises a hand to wipe the tears away. “Because he said that I was the only person who wasn’t in it. Everyone was there - even you. You two barely knew each other then and yet you were still a part of this anesthesia fuelled utopia.” She shakes her head again and pushes a hand through her tangled hair. “He said that a world without me in it isn’t worth living in, even if it was perfect, but then it got me thinking about shit, and...what if _I’m_ the reason why things went so wrong? I got the ball rolling with fsociety - I planted the idea into his fucking brain. Then, when shit started blowing up and it was becoming too much, I kept fucking going because I felt like this was the only thing that was keeping us together. It finally felt like he and I were close again, like we used to be, and I didn’t want that to end...so I kept feeding the fucking flames. Five/Nine happened, then the Dark Army swooped in and made things worse. Romero died, and then Cisco was fucking murdered right in front of me. Then Trenton and Mobley were killed too. They were picking us off one by one and I _still_ kept going because…because I wanted my fucking brother to pay attention to me.” She lets out another sarcastic laugh. _“I’m_ the reason why we drifted apart in the first place. I couldn’t deal with all the shit that was happening at home so I just bailed. I didn’t know how to talk to him about any of it. I didn’t know what to say. I was scared of what it was doing to him...so I left, and everything’s just been a gradual decline since then.”

There’s a slight rustling as Dom shifts around in bed. “So you’re just gonna use the _blame it on my shitty childhood_ excuse? Is that what this long-winded explanation is leading to? Because that’s what it feels like, and I’m still not buying any of it.”

“No, Jesus.” Darlene groans. “I’m trying to tell you the exact fucking opposite. It’s not because of the shit that happened to me as a kid or because I missed my brother. It’s not because of fsociety, or E Corp, or what a bunch of stupid rich people did to my dad. It’s because of me, okay? It’s all because of me. I’m the common denominator here. _I’m_ the reason why last year was so fucking terrible.” She heaves another sigh. “If Elliot’s dream world was so perfect because I wasn’t in it, what’s to say that the same wouldn’t happen in real life?”

“Look,” Dom huffs. “If you’re trying to play the sympathy card-”

“Holy shit, Dom.” Darlene throws her head back and groans out of frustration. “I told you to _listen._ Can you just shut the fuck up for one second? You know I’m terrible with words. I’m getting to my point, just give me a goddamn minute.”

The redhead rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “Fine. Go ahead.”

“I didn’t know I had to ask for your permission, but thanks.” Darlene grumbles. “I’m just trying to say that I’m pretty much the root of every single bad thing that’s ever happened in the past year, and every time I tried avoiding dealing with the consequences things would just get worse. I know there’s no way I can just undo everything I’ve ever done, but what I know for sure is that I have to stop avoiding things or pretending they’re not there. It obviously hasn’t done any good for me before and it sure as hell isn’t doing any good now. I have to live out the rest of my life dealing with the consequences and I’m ready for them, whatever they may be. I really don’t fucking care at this point, to be honest. I don’t give a shit what happens to me. I just…I just want to stop hurting people.” She half-turns away from the redhead as the tears drip down her cheeks. “Especially you.”

A heavy silence lapses between them. It’s thicker than the inky blackness shrouding the small apartment. Darlene can feel it enveloping her, threatening to choke the life out of her, but she wouldn’t mind if that actually happened. Hell, she could somehow die right here, right now, and she’d totally be okay with it. If Elliot’s able to thrive in an imaginary world without her, maybe the same could happen if she wiped herself off of this world too. Dom would definitely be happier.

“That night after the bar, when I took you back here and…” Dom breaks the silence, but she quickly peters off, unable to finish her sentence.

“What about it?”

“You said that it was the first time in a long time that you actually felt good, and that it was more than what it appeared to be.” Dom exhales shakily. “Did you really mean that, or were you just trying to make me feel bad so I wouldn’t kill you?”

“What?” Darlene laughs incredulously as she quickly wipes her tears away with the back of her hand. “C’mon, Dom. You have to give me more credit than that.”

“How can I? You lied about almost everything. I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Fair point. “Of course I fucking meant it. I know I’ve been a total asshole about pretty much everything up to this point but believe me, Dom - if there’s anything I regret, it’s what I did to you. Hurting you was the worst thing I’ve ever fucking done-”

“No it isn’t.” Dom glares at her, and it pierces her straight in the chest.

“Okay, it’s the _second_ worst thing I’ve ever fucking done, but I’d take it back if I could and I mean that. If I could somehow undo everything and make it so that we’ve never even met, I’d do it.” Darlene groans and runs a hand through her hair. “Just…believe that, okay? I’d erase myself out of your memory if that meant I could stop fucking hurting you. I just…I don’t know. I don’t give a shit if you hate me for the rest of your life. I just want you to believe me when I say that I meant what I told you that night, and that I mean everything I’m saying now.”

Another weighted silence wedges itself between them for a few seconds. When Dom speaks up again, her voice is so soft Darlene can barely hear her. “I don’t want that.”

“Don’t want what?”

“To not have you here.” Dom sighs. Darlene twitches at her words, but she tries not to let them bring her hopes up. “Look, what you did to Susan was wrong. You killed her. There’s no way around that.”

“I know. I straight up told you that.” She frowns. “I know there’s nothing I can do to make up for it, so spare me the lecture. Just tell me what you really want to say.”

“I don’t really know.” Dom admits. “I mean, I have an idea, but I can’t find the right words to say it. You know I’m not good with words either.”

“If you’re gonna turn me in for what I did to Susan I can’t really stop you.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.” The redhead sighs. “But by all accounts, I should. It’s the right thing to do, and I swore an oath to uphold the law.”

Darlene skeptically eyes the hesitance in Dom’s expression. “But...?”

“But I also should have turned you in when you stole all that money and gave it away. I should have turned you in when you pretty much confirmed everything about your involvement with fsociety. I also should’ve turned you in when you broke into my apartment all those months ago.” Dom runs a hand through her hair, shaking her head like she’s disappointed in herself. “There were a million opportunities to let justice figure out what to do with you, but I never did.”

She has a point there. “Why didn’t you?”

Dom throws her hands up in defeat. “I don’t really know. I’ve been trying to figure out why, but I can’t think of an answer. Maybe a part of me agrees with you. Maybe a part of me feels like you did the right thing, even though the rest of me disagrees.” She rests her elbows on her knees and cradles her head in her hands. “The stuff you did to the Deus Group was one thing, but killing someone in cold blood?” She rumples her hair. “I know you’re capable of pulling a lot of shit, Darlene, but I never thought you’d be capable of that.”

“I didn’t know I was capable of it either.” Darlene shrugs. “It fucked me up for weeks, if that counts for anything. Couldn’t sleep, couldn’t concentrate on shit. Had to pop or snort something so I didn’t have to think about it...but then Cisco died, and you trapped me in that stupid safe house for a little while. I had no choice but to sit there all by myself and think about all of the fucked up things that I did, and how it led me to that point. It made me realize that killing her didn’t fucking solve anything. It didn’t bring my dad back. It didn’t fix all of the lives she wrecked. It didn’t make me feel better. I didn’t get the revenge I thought I wanted.” She shakes her head. “It just made me even more alone than I already was.”

The days she spent at the safe house were a sad, lonely blur. They bled into each other because all of them felt like the exact same day repeated several times over the course of a few weeks. The only company she really had was Dom, but back then she was too preoccupied with other things to really take her seriously. Dom was only an enemy - a pig, a goon for the federal government, someone who was just constantly in the way of her plans. Now, well…

“I asked Elliot if he knew.” Dom shrugs. “I kind of already knew the answer, but I didn’t expect him to say that you told him on the night you cremated your mom.”

“It wasn’t easy.” Darlene mutters. “And it kind of wasn’t planned either, but I was gonna tell him eventually. He needed to know everything that went down with fsociety before we jumped into the whole thing with the Deus Group.”

“He told me that he knew exactly what I was feeling.” Dom continues. “He was angry too, and a part of him wondered if things would just be better if he never spoke to you again - but he ended up not doing that, obviously. He didn’t really know why at the time, but he said that he figured it out after waking up in the hospital.” 

Darlene slowly raises her head to stare at her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“He mentioned that he had a dream while he was out, just like you said, but he didn’t tell me the specifics. All he told me was that it made him realize how important you are to him, and how you’re the only reason why he’s still here. He…” Dom pauses, running her hand through her hair once more. “He said something about how you keep him from floating away, like you’re his anchor or something. I didn’t understand it, but when I asked him to elaborate he told me to ask you.”

“Why me? Darlene shakes her head. “That isn’t my story to tell. Not most of it, anyway.”

“I asked him the same thing, and he said it’s because you have a better memory than he does.”

This feels like another one of Elliot’s ploys to get them back together. “Well, if he wants me to tell you, I guess I can…if you want to hear it.”

She can hear Dom sigh again. “Of course I do, Darlene.” She reaches somewhere behind her; a lamp suddenly flickers to life, and Darlene can see her a little better. Her disheveled hair and tired eyes make her chest ache again, and she has to force herself to look away - but when she drops her eyes to the floor, she notices the piles of clothes scattered around her boots. She raises her head to stare at the desk by the wall, and she quirks an eyebrow at the papers and folders stacked so high they’re dangerously close to toppling over. She half-turns to face the small table where they usually eat together, and it’s covered with empty takeout cartons. A bottle of whiskey is sitting in the middle of the mess, but it’s too dark to tell if there’s anything inside. She can’t help but think back to the very first night she was here, when things looked eerily similar.

“Dom,” Darlene slowly turns to look at her. “What have you been doing since Thanksgiving?”

The redhead furrows her brow at the sudden change in subject. “Uh, just work, I guess. Got assigned to a new case so I’ve been kinda busy.”

“Clearly.” Darlene briefly wonders what the kitchen must look like, and she sighs. “Were you even asleep when I got here?” Her eyes jump to the shelf behind Dom’s bed; she can see her laptop sitting there, along with a couple of manila folders stuffed with paper. Next to all of that is a very tall ceramic mug, which Darlene assumes is full of coffee.

“Kind of.” Dom shrugs. “I was working on something and I was planning on going to bed soon, but then you start banging on my door.” She shakes her head. “But that’s not important right now. You didn’t come here just to ask me what I’ve been up to lately.”

She’s obviously lying about planning on going to bed, but it’s apparent she doesn’t want to talk about it, and she’s right anyway, so Darlene lets it slide. If they can get through whatever the hell this is, maybe she can bring it up later. “I’m gonna warn you now,” She moves to sit at the foot of Dom’s bed. “Some of it might be a little hard to believe at first. Actually, a lot of it is _super_ batshit.”

“Try me.” There’s a hint of a smirk hovering over Dom’s lips, and Darlene can’t help but chuckle at that.

“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She absently fiddles with a corner of the duvet cover. “So, I’m sure you have an idea by now, but Elliot, he has some kind of disorder. He’ll have episodes where he sees people that aren’t really there, and sometimes he actually… _becomes_ them. His entire demeanour will change - the way he talks, his body language, even his handwriting. It’s like he becomes a completely different person.”

“DID.” Dom suddenly cuts in.

“What?” Darlene whips her head around to gawk at her.

“Dissociative Identity Disorder.” The redhead casually replies. “Characterized by multiple personality states existing within a single physical being. They’re separated by partitions, or memory gaps; there’ll be incidents where he won’t remember certain instances in time or events of the day because he ‘switches’ from one state to another. The people he’s seeing and becoming - they may be imaginary to us, but to him, they’re real. They’re the puzzle pieces that make up who he is; they’re part of him, and he isn’t whole without them. They’re manifestations of those partitions that separate one part of his brain from another.”

She blinks several times, unsure how to react. _“I_ obviously know what it is, but how the hell do _you_ know?”

“Took a few psych courses back in college, and we had to take criminal psychology classes in Quantico.” Dom is annoyingly dismissive about all of this, like just randomly knowing about serious mental illnesses is common knowledge. “Also, I read the reports after his arrest. It had a few of his psychiatric records, but it was really high level stuff; they didn’t dive into too much detail.”

Darlene shakes her head. “Okay, whatever. That makes this a little easier, then.”

“I know the courts deemed him mentally fit to stand trial, but I still think he would’ve had a shot at the insanity plea. Why didn’t he do it? It would’ve lessened his sentence.”

“Because he wanted to take full responsibility for everything that happened.” Darlene shrugs. “I mean, it technically wasn’t him who did all of that, but he felt like he needed to hold himself accountable anyway. Trust me, I tried to convince him to take the plea, but he insisted on taking the fall. I get it, though - he just wanted to do shit on his own terms. I think it turned out for the better, anyway. He enjoys the pig pen. The routine probably helps him too.”

“The most common cause of DID is childhood trauma.” Dom frowns. “I know you guys had a rough time growing up, but…if that’s what Elliot has, it must’ve been a lot worse than the both of you let on. Did your dad’s death have anything to do with it?”

“Kind of.” Darlene is visibly uncomfortable. Talking about her and Elliot’s home life is something she still struggles with, and she kind of hates her brother right now for making her talk about it, but maybe that was also his intention. Maybe this is his way of trying to help her with her own issues. “He wasn’t the greatest. In fact, he was really fucking horrible.”

“What?” Dom furrows her brow. “But didn’t you kill Susan because of what E Corp did to him? And Five/Nine, that was executed on May 9th, his-”

“Birthday, I know. Our dad, he…” A shaky sigh passes through her lips. “He did some really, _really_ shitty things to Elliot. It fucked him up for a very long time. He’s still working through it, if you haven’t been able to tell.”

Dom’s expression changes from slightly worried to thoroughly concerned. “Did he…abuse him?” _Abuse_ is a pretty broad term, but it’s the way Dom says it that gives Darlene the impression that she knows what kind of abuse she’s talking about.

Darlene can’t manage any sort of verbal reply, so she only nods. Dom swallows hard and shakes her head, lifting herself off the backboard and crawling towards the foot of the bed so she can sit next to her. “He didn’t…did he ever do anything to y-”

“Never.” Darlene shakes her head. “Elliot made sure it never happened, but he paid the full fucking price for it. I didn’t even find out about it until after he got out from the hospital. That’s how far he went to protect me from him.” She half-turns away from Dom, biting her lip momentarily as she tries to recompose herself. “All this time I kept talking about how much I missed him, and how much I wished he was here - and I didn’t even fucking know how shitty he actually was. All those times Elliot heard me talk about him like that…” She shakes her head. “I don’t even know _why_ I said those things. I don’t remember him all that much, but that’s mostly because he barely acknowledged I existed. I guess I said them because I thought Elliot missed him too, and if I related to him we could be close again - who knows.”

“You said your dad died when you were pretty young, right?”

“He died when I was four, but even before that he wasn’t really in my life much. He spent most of this free time with Elliot.” She laughs humourlessly. “I used to get so jealous. I kept wondering why our dad wanted to be with him all the time, and why he never bothered to hang out with me. Now I know why.” She sighs again. “And there’s our mom. I think she knew what our dad did, but she didn’t know how to handle it, so she took it out on the both of us. She was a raging bitch.” She takes off her jacket, stretches out an arm, rolls up her sleeve, and points to a faded, circular scar on the inner side of her forearm, close to her elbow. “This was her favourite spot on me. For Elliot, it was a bit higher.” She taps her bicep. “Menthols. Sometimes I can still smell them.”

Her breath catches in her throat when Dom gingerly runs a finger over the scar. Her touch is so delicate, so tentative, but it pulses through her body like a power surge. “I’ve always wondered where this came from.” The redhead frowns. “I thought it looked like a cigarette burn, but I didn’t want to believe that it was.”

Dom admitting that she always knew about the scar makes everything hurt a lot more than it already does. She really can’t ever hide anything from her. “That’s my mother dearest for you, but that’s just one of the many fucked up things she did. She clearly hated the both of us but she seemed to especially enjoy hating me for some reason. She tried to force me to drown my cat once.” When she eyes Dom’s dumbstruck expression, she can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, it was fucked up. I ran away for a few days and gave the cat away, so I won in the end, but when I got home afterward…man, that was fun. She almost dislocated my arm that night. Elliot had to lock me in his room so she’d stop hitting me. I slept there for the rest of the week because I was too afraid to sleep in my own room.”

Her lighthearted tone makes it sound like she’s telling a great joke. It’s probably why Dom looks so distressed right now. “Why didn’t anyone call the police or Child Protective Services?”

“My parents were good at bullshitting.” Darlene shrugs. “On the outside we looked like the perfect family: We went on road trips, we had movie and board game nights, we celebrated Thanksgiving - it’s only when you actually bother to dig past the surface that you realize how fucked up everything really was, and no one ever really did that because they didn’t think they needed to. We’d go to Coney Island, take the family photo so they have proof that we’re completely normal, and then everything will instantly fall apart again.” She absentmindedly twists a tendril of hair around her finger. “If you stuck my parents in the same room, I can guarantee they won’t be able to go five minutes without arguing over something stupid. Makes me wonder how they even got together in the first place. I can’t imagine them _ever_ loving each other at any point in their fucked up relationship.”

“Darlene…” Dom looks horrified, and Darlene feels bad for wanting to laugh. She doesn’t even know why she finds Dom’s reaction so funny. Maybe she’s just so desensitized to her nightmare of a childhood that she completely forgot that there are other people out there who were brought up by caring, doting parents. “I don’t even know what to say. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not asking for sympathy, and I’m definitely not dumping this on you because it’ll get you to hate me less for what I did to Susan.” She retorts. “I’m just…letting you know, because I want you to know.” Her expression softens as she wraps her arms around herself, like she’s bracing for impact. “I don’t want to keep any secrets from you anymore. You deserve to know the truth about me, warts and all.”

Dom sits in silence for what feels like hours. Darlene knows she’s probably just taking the time to process everything, but she can feel her anxiety spiking and she closes her eyes in an attempt to pull herself together. Regardless of what Dom thinks about her in the end, she can handle it on her own. She doesn’t need Dom - sure, it would be nice to have her around, but she isn’t necessary. She’s going to be fine, no matter what the outcome.

“You know,” Dom keeps her eyes trained on her lap. “I used to think there was always going to be a part of me that will hate you for all of the terrible things you’ve done - not just to me, but to other people too. This part of me wasn’t ever going to agree with you. It would’ve never forgiven you. It would always see you as a criminal, a terrible person who can only do wrong. It would’ve never wished anything good for you. That part of me would’ve hoped to see you live out the rest of your days with nothing but misery and regret.”

Darlene can feel her heart plummeting to her stomach. “This isn’t very encouraging.”

“But the more I think about it,” Dom continues, slowly reaching towards her and enclosing her hand around her wrist, pulling her arms away from herself. Her hand skims up towards her elbow, and when her thumb grazes her scar Darlene quickly inhales out of shock. “I’m starting to realize that I don’t really feel that way anymore - at least not as much as before. It’s still there, but I think that part of me is getting smaller. Maybe it won’t go away completely any time soon, but I think it’s very possible that it’ll happen someday.”

Darlene drops her head so she can stare at Dom’s hand, which is still touching her scar. “Why?”

“I’m not going to pretend that what you did was right. You had your reasons but none of them justify murder.” Dom’s expression changes, but Darlene quite put her finger on what it changed _to._ It kind of looks disappointed, it kind of looks pensive, it kind of looks confused. “But…you weren’t wrong when you said that I’m not innocent either. I have blood on my hands too. At first I tried spinning it so that it worked in my favour - Janice and the Dark Army are obviously the bad guys, so killing them was the right thing to do. But then I thought about what Susan did to your family, to Angela’s family, to countless other families, and I can’t deny that she did her fair share of bad things too. E Corp ruins millions of peoples’ lives on a daily basis and people like Susan help them get away with it. I killed Janice for the same reason you killed Susan: For doing her job.”

“Janice was trying to kill you.” Darlene shakes her head. “She threatened to kill your family and she shanked you in the fucking chest with a smile on her goddamn face. I think she deserved a bullet to the brain.”

“I don’t have the authority to decide who gets to live and who doesn’t.” Dom frowns. “Having a badge and a gun doesn’t mean I have the final word on something like that. If the tables were turned and _you_ were the agent, would I still have vilified you for killing Susan, or would I have found some way to make it look like there was justifiable grounds for you to do so?”

“Well, I kind of did it unprovoked. Sure, Susan did a bunch of terrible things, but she technically wasn’t doing anything to me in that moment. I just…did it. You killed Janice because she tried to kill you first. You did it out of self-defence, I did it because I’m a piece of shit. There’s a difference.”

“I don’t know.” Dom pushes a hand through her hair, closing her eyes momentarily. “I can try to justify it all I want, but at the end of the day I still killed someone. I killed _three_ people that night. I intended to take their lives away. That still makes me a murderer.”

Guilt starts to seep in. “Dom, you know you’re not a bad person, right? You did what you had to do.”

“I guess.” Dom shrugs. “Maybe I put too much faith into our system. I guess it’s just easier to believe that the people we’ve entrusted power to are doing the right things because that’s what they’re supposed to do. We give them authority over us because we expect them to do what they swore to do: To protect us, to keep things in order, to ensure everyone gets equal opportunities...but I’m only kidding myself, aren’t I? Since when has anyone in a position of power ever been fair or honest?”

“Look, I didn’t mean to throw you into an existential crisis or anything. If there ever was a person in a position of power who tried their best to be fair and honest, you were the closest one. At least in my experience.”

“Thanks for the ego boost.” Dom throws her a small, grim smile. “I’ll be honest with you: This isn’t the first time I’ve thought about this. Sometimes I walk into work and I wonder why I’m here in the first place. Santiago isn’t the first person I’ve worked with who did shady things behind the bureau’s back. Corruption and dishonesty are apparently part of the job description. I don’t even know if honesty exists anymore. Everybody has a secret to keep.”

It isn’t like Dom to question her beliefs like this. She’s so steadfast in her views of right and wrong that Darlene figured she would just live out the rest of her career with the feds. In all honesty she should be happy that she’s finally pulling her head out of the sand and seeing things for what they really are, but for some reason the only thing she’s capable of feeling right now is guilt. The only reason why Dom is doubting her position with the FBI is because of _her,_ because she killed some E Corp big wig and compared it to the time Dom killed three members of the Dark Army so they wouldn’t kill her first.

“Anyways,” Dom shrugs it off and briefly squeezes her arm. “My point is that I don’t think _good guys_ or _bad guys_ actually exist. That would make things way too easy. Humanity, as a whole, is just a mixed bag. We’re all a little bit of good and fucked up at the same time, and I think that’s what makes my job so hard. Sometimes you can’t really tell who deserves to be punished and who doesn’t, and no matter what decision you end up making, someone always suffers for it. Hell, it just makes life harder in general. You don’t know who you can really trust. You’re pretty much taking a gamble with every single person you meet. You’ll never know what they’re capable of doing to you until it actually happens. They can hurt you, they can betray you, they can lie to you…but at the same time, they might also be the one person you really need. They might be able to make you laugh even when everything else in your life is kinda shitty. They might make you appreciate the little things more.” She finally raises her head to look at her, a small smile teasing the corners of her mouth. “I know you don’t have the cleanest record out there, Darlene. Like I said, there’s that part of me that’s still hurting from all the things you did…but there’s this other part of me - a much bigger, louder part - that loves you so goddamn much that it kind of pisses me off sometimes.”

Well, Darlene wasn’t expecting to hear _that._ “What?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

Dom eyes the disbelief on Darlene’s face and laughs. “I know, I find it hard to believe too.” The hand on her arm moves back downward and she weaves their fingers together. Darlene’s pulse feels like it’s staggering, violently stumbling against the rungs of her ribcage. “I know you’re not perfect. I think at this point it’s safe to say that I’m not expecting you to ever be perfect, but you’ve been working so hard lately at making things right. I see you trying every single day. I know you regret the things you’ve done, and I know you think you deserve to live with that for the rest of your life, but you don’t have to live with it alone.”

Darlene swallows when Dom squeezes her hand, feebly trying to force the lump in her throat to go away. “I _do_ deserve to go through it alone. All I’ve ever done was hurt the people I care about.”

“That self-loathing bit isn’t gonna help anyone in the long run.” Dom shakes her head. “I get it, though, I really do - and I know you’re capable of handling it by yourself, but I want to be there for you, Darlene. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out to you sooner. I needed time to sort things out.”

“It’s fine.” She sighs. “I wasn’t expecting you to just be okay with everything right away, if at all.”

“I don’t think I was ever going to leave.” Dom admits. “I guess in the moment I made it look like it was, and maybe I thought I was going to in the beginning, but when I thought about it some more…it just didn’t feel like it was possible. I couldn’t see myself doing it. Honestly, I don’t think I ever wanted it.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m holding you hostage.” Darlene mutters. “You should be able to leave if you feel like you need to.”

“I know that,” Dom shakes her head. “But that’s the thing - I never felt like I needed to. I’ve come pretty close a few times-”

“More like a million times.”

“Sure, a million, but I told you before that I don’t want to be anywhere without you.” Dom smiles, and when Darlene looks away she lets go of her hand so she can place both of hers on her cheeks, turning her head so that she has no choice but to look at her. “I meant that. I still do.”

Darlene sniffles, biting her lip as Dom gingerly wipes her tears away. “How many times do I have to fuck up before you realize you’re making a huge mistake?”

The redhead chuckles as she pulls Darlene closer. “Do you have any other terrible, morally questionable secrets I should know about?”

“No.” Darlene furrows her brow. “I’m pretty sure it doesn’t get any worse than spontaneously murdering someone in their own home.”

“Don’t get me wrong - I’m still mad at you for that, and I probably will be for awhile,” Dom tucks a strand of brown hair behind Darlene’s ear. “And a part of me still thinks I’m insane for wanting to stick around - but Jesus, Darlene, after all the shit we’ve been through, and after all the shit we put each other through, I see no reason to leave now. Your brother’s right - a world without you isn’t a world worth living in. I want to be here, with you.”

Darlene cracks a small smile. “So, are you saying that I could kill someone else and you’ll still be here? ‘Cause I have a list-”

Dom instantly pulls away. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

“Okay, okay.” Darlene laughs, reaching out to her. “I’m sorry. I won’t become a serial killer, I promise.”

“That isn’t funny.” The redhead crosses her arms.

“C’mon, I said I was sorry.” She whines, grabbing Dom’s forearms and tugging until she relents and leans back in, pressing their foreheads together.

Dom rolls her eyes, chuckling softly as the tips of their noses bump against each other. “Come here, asshole.” And she finally kisses her.

They’ve kissed under false pretences, they’ve kissed just to shut each other up, they’ve kissed to ensure that everything’s going to be okay, they’ve kissed just because they wanted to - but they’ve never kissed like this. There’s desperation, there’s longing, there’s a hunger that can only come from deprivation. It’s different from the time they spent apart after the incident with Irving and Santiago, and it’s different than the three months they spent apart when Dom was in Europe. They’ve only been separated for three weeks, but this kiss makes Darlene feel like they haven’t seen each other in aeons.

She raises her hands to frame Dom’s face, smiling against her lips when she feels the redhead snake her arms around her waist to pull her closer. She thinks about how implausible this all seems - is she really here with her right now, in her apartment, kissing her like it’s just any regular weekend? A part of her wants to believe that this is just some kind of alcohol infused hallucination, and in a few seconds she’ll wake up alone with her heart still aching from not being around her. Should she ask if this is real? Will Dom just laugh it off and call her crazy? It’s better to be safe than sorry, but if this actually is real, she doesn’t want to spoil the moment. She’s done that so many times already; she wants to prove that she can actually _not_ fuck things up for once.

When they finally break apart, Dom furrows her brow and narrows her eyes. “You’ve been drinking.”

Darlene groans. “So?”

“So you _are_ drunk.”

“No.” Darlene pauses. “Well, not anymore. I had a few drinks, but trust me - I’m stone cold sober now. See, I was at this party, and then this guy started talking to me-”

Dom’s expression immediately hardens. “Wait, what _guy?_ And what party?”

“Some fsociety thing that I kinda just walked into.” Darlene replies dismissively. “His name is Dom.”

The redhead blinks rapidly in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Actually, it could’ve been Tom. Shit, for all I know, it also could’ve been John, or maybe even Ron. I couldn’t hear him properly.” She shrugs. “Anyways, he convinced me to come talk to you.”

Dom quirks an eyebrow at her. “Some stranger you met at a party who may or may not share a name with me told you to talk to me?”

There’s another short pause. “Well, at first he was supposed to just be a thing that would help me get over you so I could move on with my life.”

“And you didn’t go through with it?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because I realized that if I did it, I’d only be proving myself right when I say I’m destined to be the same terrible person forever. I don’t want to be right; I want to be the person you keep saying I am - the one who’s trying to be better. Plus, it wouldn’t have been fair to him. He was actually a good person, and I would’ve hurt him if I used him like that.” Darlene shrugs, clearing her throat as her eyes divert from Dom’s stare. “Also…I didn’t want him. I never did. I wanted you - I _only_ want you.”

Dom snorts, which immediately provokes Darlene to glare at her. “You move on pretty quickly, don’t you?”

“I _just_ said I wanted you, not him.” Darlene throws up her hands. “Plus, he ended up talking my ear off about how goody-goody he was, and he sounded so much like you that it was freaking me out and it just kinda snapped me out of being drunk.”

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that,” Dom rolls her eyes. “But at least he was able to talk some sense into you.”

“Shit’s just been really weird without you, okay?” Darlene groans again, throwing her arms around Dom’s middle and finally leaning into her, pressing her nose against her collarbone and closing her eyes as she breathes in deep. “This is why you need to be here.”

“Yeah, I can see that now.” She can feel Dom hugging her back, pulling her close against her, and when she feels the weight of her head on top of hers she lets out a shaky, watery sigh. This feels right, like it’s something she was always meant to do. It feels like home, and she doesn’t feel that way very often. In fact, she doesn’t think she’s _ever_ felt like that before, not until Dom came back from her sabbatical in Europe.

“I missed you.” Darlene mumbles against her shirt, her voice quivering as her eyes glaze over with tears. _“So_ fucking much.”

She can hear Dom chuckling. “It’s only been three weeks. We’ve been apart for much longer before.”

“Don’t remind me.” Darlene sniffles as she tightens her hold on her. “I know the whole Budapest thing was last minute, and I’m glad you ended up getting a vacation after all, but those three months without you were… _so_ fucking hard. I just...I need you around, Dom. We don’t have to see each other everyday, but I just need to know you’re here.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I’m not planning on going anywhere anytime soon.” There’s a brief pause. “And we could’ve stayed in touch while I was away. It’s just that neither of us wanted to initiate the conversation.”

She closes her eyes a second time as more tears start to fall. “I wanted to reach out. You know I did. I guess I figured it was more important to give you space to figure shit out. Maybe I realized somewhere down the line that I needed the space too. Doesn’t mean I liked it, though.”

“I know.” Dom gives her a grateful squeeze. “These past few weeks weren't easy for me either. I missed you too - I missed you a lot, actually. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about you almost every day.” She pulls back for a moment, raising a hand to wipe her tears away. “But we’re together now, and that’s all that matters, right?” When Darlene gives her a small nod, she leans in to kiss her on the forehead (Another thing Darlene will never admit out loud: She lives for Dom’s forehead kisses and she goes out of her way to get as many of them as she possibly can). “Can we please go to bed? I think the both of us can use a good night’s rest right now.”

“I’d like that.” She rises to her feet so she can throw her jacket over one of the chairs by the small table close to the kitchen, and then she heads into Dom’s closet so she can change into that familiar blue and white button-up. When she finally settles beneath the sheets, the first thing she does is wrap her arms around Dom and cuddle as close as she possibly can. She closes her eyes and breathes her in again, sighing at the familiarity of it all as she feels one of Dom’s arms curving over her side. She can feel the heaviness of fatigue weighing down on her, but there’s just one more thing she needs to get off her chest.

“Why did you come back?” She whispers.

She feels Dom shift against her. “What?”

“The airport. You said that I needed to grow up - that we _both_ needed to grow up. Then you left…and you came back. Why?”

There’s a pause. Darlene wishes the lights were still on because she desperately wants to see Dom’s face right now and how she’s reacting to all of this. After a few more seconds of silence, she feels Dom’s arm tightening around her waist, pulling her closer. The redhead’s voice is only a decibel higher than her own.

“Because I realized I wanted to grow up with you.”

A fresh round of tears rushes to her eyes, and she sniffles before quickly raising a hand to wipe them away. “Shit, Dom.” She tries to laugh, but ends up hiccuping instead. “I begged you to come with me. We could’ve gone anywhere you fucking wanted. I didn’t care where we ended up. I just wanted to be with you.”

“I know.” Dom squeezes her waist. “Why did you end up staying?”

Darlene shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut in a feeble attempt to stop the tears from flowing. “I wanted to see if you’d come back.”

“Well, I did, but you weren’t there.”

“I was.” She huffs. “I just wasn’t on the plane.”

“You could’ve told me that.” She could hear the smugness in Dom’s tone, and she rolls her eyes even though she’s still crying.

_“You_ could’ve told _me_ that.” Darlene sniffles again, and when she feels the warmth of Dom’s hands against her face, tenderly wiping her tears away, she starts crying again. “Our timing is fucking terrible.”

“So’s our communication,” Dom agrees as she continues to brush away her tears. “But it needed to happen. Things wouldn’t be the way they are now if we didn’t miss each other that day.” She can feel Dom shift against her again, and when she feels her lips against her forehead, she almost feels like crying some more. “I like this. I like what we turned out to be. If we had to be apart for a little while in order for this to happen, then I don’t regret boarding that plane without you. I’d do it again if I had to.”

“Please don’t.” Darlene mutters. “I’ve had enough forced separation for one lifetime, thanks.”

Dom laughs before pressing another kiss to Darlene’s forehead. She can feel Dom’s heartbeat thumping steadily against her cheek, and it’s almost enough to lull her to sleep, but then she realizes she actually has one _other_ thing she needs to get off her chest.

“I love you.” Darlene speaks up again after a few seconds of silence. “You know that, right?”

“Wow.” Dom sounds genuinely surprised. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say it first before.”

“Who’s ruining the moment now?” Darlene grumbles, and she shakes her head when Dom laughs.

“I love you too.” Dom murmurs into her dark hair. “Now get some sleep. We can ruin as many moments as we want when we wake up later, and there are plenty of moments we can ruin after that.”

The possibility of having an infinite amount of ruinable moments with Dom makes Darlene stupidly excited, but she’s too tired to verbally express it right now, so instead she angles her head up a little so she can graze the end of her nose against Dom’s jawline. As always, Dom reads her loud and clear, glancing downward so she can kiss her; after pulling apart, Darlene sighs before burying her face into the curve of the redhead’s neck, relieved that the worst has finally come to pass.

It doesn’t take long for the both of them to fall asleep. They barely separate through the rest of the night, firmly wound together in each other’s arms.

* * *

“Wait,” Darlene briefly brushes shoulders with Dom as the redhead holds the door for her later that day, allowing her to step inside her building first. “You _knew_ I was awake?”

“Yup.” Dom looks pretty pleased with herself, throwing Darlene a cocky grin as she follows her up the stairs. “I know what you look and sound like when you’re really asleep. It was easy to tell you were faking it right away.”

“Why the hell didn’t you say anything?” Darlene briefly pauses so she can glare at Dom over her shoulder. “We could’ve avoided _so_ many problems if you just-”

“I could ask you the same question.” The redhead shrugs. “And I told you - I needed time to sort things out. I was still pretty pissed off at you, and I think the time apart was good for the both of us anyway, even if we hated it.”

Darlene rolls her eyes and resumes the climb to her and Elliot’s floor. “Whatever.”

“You were being a jerk on the ride home.” Dom pipes up from behind. “I figured you needed time to cool off too.”

“Alright, fine.” Darlene grumbles as she passes the third floor landing. “You’re right, I’m wrong. Happy?”

“Very.” She can hear the grin in Dom’s voice, and she rolls her eyes again. A few minutes later, they’re standing in front of Elliot’s door. Just as Darlene's about to knock, Dom quickly leans towards her to sneak in a quick kiss. When she stares back, expression flustered and cheeks tinged pink, the redhead laughs, and she glares at her. “What’s with the sudden PDA?”

“Wow, okay then.” Dom scoffs, though it’s clear she’s trying very hard not to smile. “The _one_ time I try to be romantic, you brush me off.”

“Gross.” Darlene shakes her head and laughs before grabbing Dom by the collar and pulling her in for another kiss.

And that’s Post-Makeup Ruinable Moment Number One.

**Author's Note:**

> Story and chapter titles taken from "If U Love Me Now" by MUNA.


End file.
